Chances Are
by Magali1
Summary: *Updated 10/19/2014- Chapter fixed and readded* Tyra and Tim both get life-altering news that forces them to reevaluate their aimless wandering. Tyra and Tim POV mostly, but major roles for Tami, Eric, Landry, Lyla, and Jason. ANGST/Drama. Tearjerker warning for the first half of the fic. In-Progress.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Sorry for deleting the other story- I took it down to refocus and fix many issues. I was also more than halfway through when I hit a roadblock and in the interest of not leaving people hanging in the future, I removed the fic. This one has been on the backburner but I had a second 'wind' so to speak to finish it. It is SUPER angsty. Like really bad angsty, but it's got equal parts of all the characters and I really like how it's turning out. Hopefully people are still reading my fics- I know many prefer Eric and Tami, but I am just not comfortable with them. I'm still trying though :)

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**_Prologue_**

"Oh my God, I think I'm going to be sick."

Tim leaned over her knees for the bottle of water she'd set aside, too nervous to drink it, even if it did cost her five bucks. He uncapped it, took a sip, and shrugged. "Why are you nervous? You're not out there on the field."

I'm nervous, idiot, because that's what empathy is about. I'm nervous for him. Tyra lifted her head too quickly, feeling a bit nauseous at the movement. She pushed her hair from her eyes; back to blonde, after a stint as a redhead, looking down on the football field, not even registering the unique script of the school name the marching band was forming.

She held her hands in front of her mouth, folding her fingers, and closed her eyes. In the last fourteen years she hadn't prayed much. It didn't do for her what she knew it did for others. Not that she didn't believe in God, she did, she just…she just tried to find her strength from inside, rather than seek guidance from someone else.

Although she did occasionally pray. Now was probably the tenth time in her life. She prayed for…for something. For him to not screw up. For him to be really good. She opened her eyes, staring at the field, hearing the band finish up. "Why did he have to come so far away?" she asked, to no one in particular.

Not that there were many with them. Tim glanced sideways, but she couldn't see his eyes through the tinted shades of his ancient aviators. He propped his foot up on the seat in front of him. "Because he could start here and their offense is suited to his skills. It's football politics Tyra, you wouldn't understand."

"Shut up, I do too understand." No, she kind of didn't understand. She didn't care if he could start in Texas or Ohio, she didn't know why he had to pick Ohio. It was snowy here. It rained a lot. It was the Midwest! He could have gone to A&M or to UT or…or hell even somewhere in Oklahoma, just not a million miles away. At least it was a good school. "I tell you though, if he gets a girl pregnant or something without us to beat him up…" She let the threat hang, unsaid.

Her…whatever Tim was to her these days rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his phone, drawling. "He's not getting anyone pregnant."

"That's what you said fifteen years ago. About yourself, if I remember right."

"And now look at me."

She ignored him, seeing him checking his phone like he was some super important guy for the 100th time. No doubt checking up on things back in Dillon. She stood up, clapping and hollering the second she saw the team break through the giant block 'O' sign held up at the entrance to the stadium, jumping up and down. "Tim!" she screamed, turning just in time to see him almost throw the phone aside, grabbing her around her neck and jumping. They both screamed louder than probably anyone in that massive stadium when his face appeared on the big screen scoreboard. She had to remember to check with people watching on TV to see if her nephew's face was on television too.

More like my son than nephew, she thought, wiping at her eyes. "Are you crying?" Tim asked.

"No," she lied. She turned to face him, grabbing his cheeks and planting a big kiss on his lips. She broke a second later, smiling at his stunned expression. "I don't care what your girlfriend or whatever the hell she now to you says," she said, wiping her lipstick from his upper lip. She could handle the chick, always had been able to handle her. Even if she wasn't the jealous type of girlfriend or…or whatever she was to him.

"You said it not me but good luck to you if she ever finds out," he replied, his arm still around her, jumping in place when they put a giant picture of Stevie on the board, with all his stats from high school. He glanced down at the row in front of them, where the twins were sitting. He leaned forward, slapping their shoulders. "Hey, guys, look at your brother!"

Ricky and Nicky both looked up from their phones for about five seconds to watch their brother, yelled their support in unison, and then returned to the screens. Tyra rolled her eyes, slapping their heads. "Pay attention, we didn't fly you out here for the first game of the season just to get you out of the start of school!"

"By the way, Buddy Garrity is going to kill me Tyra," Tim reminded her for the 1000th time that day.

"I don't care what Buddy Garrity is going to do to you Tim, it's just high school football for them, this is their brother playing in the Big 10 as a starting freshman running back, because he's just that damn good!" Tyra shouted, still unable to believe it herself, so she kept repeating it. She wiped at her eyes, realizing that she was crying. For good reason, she thought, glancing at Tim, who had sobered up, a small, but sad smile on his lips. He looked physically pained for a brief moment, until he quickly hid it. Tyra still hadn't been allowed to fully see that side of him, not since fourteen years ago, when this whole thing went into play.

He glanced down at the ground, closing his eyes briefly. Did he pray, Tyra wondered. She turned her head, looking down at the twins, who were oblivious. They would be, sadly, she thought, her hands going to their shoulders. She tossed her hair from her eyes, cheering for Stevie, ignoring the tears still threatening to fall.

They were here, she thought, sending probably her eleventh prayer in her life heavenward. They were here, watching.

She closed her eyes briefly.

It still felt like yesterday. The phone call that changed her entire life forever. _Is this Tyra Collette? This is the Dillon Police Department. _ She shuddered in memory. Beside her, Tim slowly slipped his hand over hers, stilling it. She turned hers up, squeezing it hard. "It's okay," he whispered. He sighed. "That was fifteen years ago."

Fifteen years ago…it didn't matter, it felt like fifteen seconds ago. She knew it did for him too. "They're missing it," she whispered. She watched Stevie line up on the field for the first play after kickoff, wishing that she could believe there was a reason for all of this. To have her raise her nephew instead of her sister. It had been fifteen years and to this day no one had an answer. She squeezed his hand again. "It's alright," she said, shrugging, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I think we did okay."

Tim flashed a quick smile. "Yeah, we did."

"You had your issues." More than a few issues. He'd gotten help, but…it hadn't been easy with him.

"And you had yours." Oh I certainly did. Not wanting to be a twenty-four year old mother to my three nephews for sure. We got through it though, she thought, biting at her lower lip, frowning. But there was still so much that had happened. Still so much that had changed because of that moment, fifteen years ago.

And she couldn't help but think about it now.


	2. Chances Are You're Gonna' Break

_**2. Chances Are You're Gonna' Break**_

A truck was coming up the driveway.

She really didn't want to deal with anyone right now. The alcohol she'd consumed earlier was starting to burn off from her system, leaving her in a strange limbo of drunk and aware. All she knew right now she wasn't leaving this porch and she didn't want to deal with anyone, but she knew who it was the minute the truck came to a stop beside her rented red Ford Focus. Stupid little car.

The driver climbed out, closing the door quietly behind him. He slowly walked towards the porch, looking weary, like he'd been traveling for hours, which she was sure he had been.

"Where the hell have you been?" Tyra mumbled, sitting up against the wall of the house, holding a bottle of tequila in her fingertips. She tilted it back, hoping to continue getting drunk, feeling sorry for herself, and not wanting to face anything until morning. After a moment, in which neither said anything, she glanced up at her brother-in-law. He looked terrible; he'd been driving for about two days, she guessed. That's what the police officer told her, yesterday. It didn't matter, because she was still furious with him. He'd missed everything. He'd…she had to do this alone and she couldn't do this alone. He'd missed it.

He looked absolutely tortured, but she didn't care right now. Right now his brother was still alive and her sister was gone. Her mother was sedated in the psychiatric ward after trying to swallow a bottle of pills upon hearing the news that her daughter had been pronounced dead only minutes after arriving at the ER. Selfish, Tyra wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. You're selfish Mom, you had to do that to deal with your crap but now I have to deal with you in the nuthouse and all this other stuff. I have to deal with not having a sister while he still has his brother. It wasn't fair.

He leaned against the post of the porch, looking in through his open door. He dropped is eyes to his hands, turning his keys over in his fingers. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. His throat constricted, and he nodded slightly, whispering again. "I'm so sorry Tyra."

It didn't help her feel better.

She had three kids in the house, sleeping in any room she could find a bed for them in. They'd started off at the regular house, in their rooms, but she couldn't stand to be there with all the memories and the unfinished life that was around her, so she packed them up, shoved them into her rented Ford Focus and drove them to his house, which was unlocked and a mess, but she didn't care. It wasn't that house, where her sister had left the beds unmade and laundry on the table and dishes in the sink. It made her want to puke, how normal everything was, and how not normal it was now.

Tyra set the bottle aside. Her stomach began to churn; this was not good. This was not her. She didn't cope like this. Drinking wasn't her style. This was how he would cope. She lifted her dull eyes back to his earnest ones. "They told Billy. Put him back in a coma or something, because he'd flipped out so bad that he opened up his stitches and started bleeding out again. They'll bring him out in a couple days, once he can heal I guess and…" She wiped at her face. It was so hot and sticky tonight. Her tank top was pasted onto her skin. Her toes dug into the stained wood of the porch, whispering, her head lolling sideways on her neck. "Mindy's at the county morgue."

"Good God Tyra."

She ignored him, continuing; it felt easier to say it out loud rather than think it and if he felt uncomfortable, she didn't care. He had to face it too. "I gotta' go to the funeral home tomorrow, I…I don't know how to do this," she laughed. It was stupid. Laughing. The weirdest thing was that her biggest thought was what Mindy would wear. Like that was the most important thing. Not that her three nephews didn't have a mother and their father was close to death still. She cleared her throat, her mind less fuzzy now that she had been talking. "I don't want to bury her until Billy can be there."

"Yeah…sure." He still seemed out of it, unsure about what he was supposed to do or say.

I'm the one in charge of this. I knew I'd be. There was no way he'd be able to cope with this. He never could cope with stuff like this. He couldn't handle it. "The kids are inside," she continued. She pushed up to her feet, holding her bottle of tequila, pushing it at his chest, her eyes hard on his. The son of a bitch had missed out on a lot the last couple of days. She frowned. He'd been gone. He was never gone. He was always here; he had no life but here, so why was he gone when this had to happen? Why? "Where have you been? You can't leave the state. I can't deal with you getting arrested because you went joyriding."

He frowned. She didn't care if she offended him. Tim closed his eyes briefly, mumbling. "I can leave the state now. I was in Tennessee."

"Why?"

"Visiting someone."

I don't care, Tyra realized, in a sudden moment. It didn't matter, because he was here now. She reached for him, needing something, needing someone. Her lips brushed over his and her fingers threaded through his hair. "My mom's in the hospital, she had a breakdown, threatened to kill herself, took enough pills that they thought it was enough to commit her for awhile. It was just…attention getting, they said, but…" Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes and her lip trembled, her voice quavering. "I just don't want to think right now."

This was the stupidest thing she could do, but right now she didn't care. Her mind was just all over the place. Her sister was dead, Billy was in the hospital, the kids still had no idea what was happening, and her mother was going crazy…there was too much and all she wanted was to turn everything off. Flick a switch, she thought, so she didn't have to deal with things. Go off the deep end. Wasn't that what he was for? Wasn't that what he was good at? Going off the deep end and only caring about yourself. She deserved to do that right now. She just wanted to feel good. She brushed her lips over his again. "Please," she begged.

For a moment she wondered if she could seriously go through with this. She wondered if he would go through with it. He'd barely stepped out of his truck after driving two days. He still hadn't had time to process. I don't care, she thought for the millionth time. She pressed her lips to his harder, but he stilled, doing nothing. His eyes remained open. She slowly lifted hers back to his, waiting for the denial. Very slowly, he lowered her hands from his face, setting them back at her side. He shook his head slightly, whispering. "This isn't going to make you feel better. Come on, let's go inside."

Tim Riggins doing the good thing. Nice. Although it was embarrassing. She felt her cheeks flush. It wasn't just embarrassing, it was mortifying. Don't tell me what I think, she thought, pushing at his arms, stumbling backwards. She glared at him, not saying anything. I'm drunk. If I did this I would be mortified even more…. It'd be terrible. If she went through with this it would be awful but she…she…she just…she just wanted to turn it off, she thought, tripping up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom, turning and shoving the door shut. I just want it off, she screamed inwardly. She flicked the lock, her hands shaking as she slid down the door, tears streaming down her face. I just want it to stop, she thought, sobbing into her hands.

I want my sister, she thought again. I've never wanted her more and she's not here. I need to tell someone about this. I need to talk. She cried harder, feeling the gates let loose from where she'd kept them locked the past couple of days. A few minutes later, she heard a light tap on the door. "Tyra."

"Go away," she sobbed. In the silence of the house, it sounded like she was shouting. I don't want to wake the kids, otherwise I would yell. Scream at the top of my lungs.

He waited a beat. His voice filtered through, gentle. "Tyra you're not alone."

Yes, I am alone. I am alone. He wasn't going to help her. He had to take care of his brother. They had three little nephews to care for. He couldn't help her do everything and she couldn't help him do everything. She didn't say anything further, getting up off the floor and during the old silver dials on the porcelain tub, waiting for the attached shower head to sputter to life, spitting out cold water before it turned hot. Once it was absolutely scalding and her cheeks felt as hot as fire, she stripped and climbed underneath the water, not flinching.

They still had to talk. Talk about so many things. Take it one day at a time, she supposed. She didn't want to think about the next day. Because one day at a time meant one day removed from her sister. Her big sister. Stupid, stupid, Mindy, she thought, the tears coming again. She hadn't cried at all. Not until today, when it seemed to set in, as she looked at brochures for coffins and debated the merits of casket burial or cremation. What about the boys, she wondered. Stevie was four. The twins were only two and a half. They'd have no memory of her. Stevie would have barely anything. Who was going to take care of them?

My life is in Chicago, she thought, not for the first time in the last four days she'd been in Dillon dealing with this chaos. My life is Chicago. She was going to the University of Chicago. Getting a Master's in social work. It was the third best program in the country and she got into it. She had an apartment in the same neighborhood as Matt and Julie. She was even sort of dating some guy that was in one of her classes. Now she didn't know if she'd speak to him again. She didn't know if she could go back to Chicago and back to school. At least she'd have to take a leave of absence, maybe they could work with her…she had no idea.

There was just so much.

After several more minutes in the shower, when the water had turned ice cold, she stood, wrapped a massive bath sheet around herself, and let her hair, back to blonde, fall in wet ropes to her shoulders. She left her clothes on the floor, shuffling down the hall to her room, which was barely finished. It still needed to be painted.

She stood, dripping on the hardwood, staring at Tim as he rifled through her stuff. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

He turned quickly, knocking down a tray and roller brush from atop a pyramid of paint cans. "Ah," he said, kneeling and picking it back up, setting it upright. He gestured to the clothes on the bed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Thought I'd help you out. Made your bed. There weren't sheets."

Everything was mismatched. The colors on the sheets didn't match the patterns on the pillows. She closed her eyes, shuffling to the edge of the bed, lowering herself onto the mattress. It was a futon, she realized after a second, smiling to herself. But it was something. He made her bed for her and it was at least something. She wiped at her eyes, tightening the bath sheet around herself. "Thank you."

He nodded quickly. Unsure. This was foreign territory for him. "We'll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep. Stevie's in my bed and the twins are in their crib." He walked to the door, leaning on it for a moment, his voice thick as he spoke. "For the record, Tyra, I don't want to do this alone either…and I'm sorry about Mindy. I loved her too."

Not as much as me, she thought, but didn't say. She lifted her head. Her eyes were dull, lifeless. "You can't screw this up Tim. You really can't." Her voice grew stronger. Less fragile. She focused on him, seeing the pain and anguish in his eyes. This was her only shot, she figured, to impart on him as much as she could. "I need you to help me with the boys. Help me with the hospital. Help me with the funeral…" Her voice broke on funeral, but she paused, steeled herself, and continued. "And I can't have you going off and getting drunk because you're sad too. This was a slip up for me and you can't do it either. Okay?"

He nodded quickly. Good, he got it. "Okay." He closed his eyes again, shaking his head. "I would have been here sooner. He's my brother. He needs me."

And you always give to Billy, even if Billy always screwed up when he tried to give back to you, Tyra thought. She was never really there for Mindy, not as much as she could have been. Too wrapped up in escaping Dillon forever…she'd have to live with that. She frowned. "Where were you Tim?" Why won't you tell me?

"I told you, I was in Tennessee." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Visiting a friend who needed me. I came back as fast as I could, I…I drove because…I was supposed to be there…there longer, but…" he closed his eyes, shaking his head, mumbling and walking off. "It doesn't matter." He stepped out of the bedroom, whispering so soft she almost couldn't hear him. "I'm here now."

Good. Tyra watched him leave, closing the door as he stepped further out of the room. It closed gently. She waited another minute and then got up, changing into a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. She hadn't slept well at all in the last four days. Not since she got the news about her sister. I hope like hell you pull through Billy, she thought, closing her eyes and curling into herself in the center of the bed.

Because I really, really cannot do this by myself.


	3. Things Will Get Worse Before Better

**3. ...Things Will Get Worse Before They Get Better**

Tami Taylor was accustomed to dealing with stressful situations. She was a wife and a mother; both of those jobs alone were stressful and not meant for everyone. She was dean of a private, well-respected East Coast educational facility. She could handle just about anything, she was proud to admit. All it took was a clear head, a glass of wine, and the ability to multi-task. Right now though, as she stood in the center of a waiting room in a hospital, waiting on word about Billy Riggins's fourth trip into surgery, she wasn't sure if her tried and true methods were going to work.

Julie had called them, a few days before, and let them know that Tyra Collette was down in Dillon, in serious need of some help, since all she had was Tim Riggins, coping with a three-punch situation of her sister's death, her brother-in-law's fragile state, and her mother's hospitalization in light of the death. "Where is Tim?" she'd demanded, knowing that where one Riggins brother was, the other wasn't going to be far behind.

"I don't know, Tyra said that he was out of state, but he's trying to get back," Julie said. She'd begun to cry, because she couldn't get down there fast enough since she couldn't just leave work, but Matt was trying to work things out at the gallery so he could go down and try to help in any way he could, which wasn't going to be much, because he didn't know what to do. Neither of them knew what to do. No one knew. "And I just want to be there for her, she's my best friend," she'd cried.

I know baby, Tami had assured her, already making arrangements on the computer for a flight back to Dillon. She'd work it out at the university and was already texting Eric on her work cell phone to alert him to the news. They'd flown down about two days after getting everything and were now just waiting.

It was all a waiting game, she thought, glancing down at Tyra, who was flicking through a brochure. "I don't care," she announced, lifting her eyes, whispering. "This is all so expensive, I just…I can't do this."

Tami lowered herself beside her, reaching an arm around her and closing the brochure that the funeral home had pressed on her the day before. She hadn't been there at the time; she'd been visiting with Angela Collette, who was mortified at her reaction to Mindy's death and kept promising she'd be better and she'd come out and help Tyra. Tami wasn't so sure; the woman's emotional state was so fragile.

She set the brochure aside, whispering. "I know you have to make a decision on that, but I hate to say it like this Tyra, but let's see what happens with Billy. Where's Tim?"

"He's with Coach," Tyra said, pushing her fingers through her hair and sending it back over her shoulders. She closed her eyes, her hands folding beneath her chin like she was praying. "I don't know where they went, but he freaked out at being in the hospital, so he's not here. He's been here a day and he's not here." He's just coping the only way he knows how, she thought. Eric will help him. She reached into her purse, removing her cell phone, texting him quickly for an answer to his whereabouts. A moment after the phone beeped that she'd sent the text, it buzzed.

_Outside. Picnic Tables. Be back inside soon._

Good. Tim had to be here. At Billy's next-of-kin, now that Mindy had passed, he was the one the doctor would be looking for if there was news. Tami glanced across the waiting area, where Buddy Garrity was on the phone, talking quietly with the newspaper for an obituary on Mindy. He'd actually be very helpful, she'd found, wanting to supplement the bills on anything that the Riggins-Collette family couldn't afford. Tami knew he had a big heart, he just tended to get overzealous on some things, but here it worked. Here it was helping.

She rubbed Tyra's shoulder, her voice quiet. "Why don't we pause on the funeral arrangements and let's just think about you for a moment, okay? Now, what did Chicago say when you let your advisor know?"

"They said," Tyra whispered, closing her eyes. "Um, this morning they said that…that they could give me the semester. I'll have to forfeit tuition, but they'll hold my spot, so…so that's done, um, I can…can get someone to sublet my apartment, but someone needs to get the stuff to storage if I'm gonna' be out for longer than a month…"

"Julie and Matt can do everything you need in Chicago," Tami volunteered. She reached into her tote bag, removing a notebook and flicked it back. She smiled at Tyra, clicking a pen. "When you think things get overwhelming, make a list. Now, we have Chicago dealt with, so, let's go to the funeral arrangements. I will help you with all of that, okay? Don't think that I'm just here to be a pretty face."

Tyra smiled, wiping at her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. She looked up when the elevator dinged down the hall, closing her eyes and mumbling. "I don't know what is going to happen with Tim."

That was something Eric could handle. He had Tim Watch, I have Tyra Watch, Tami thought, turning sideways and waiting for Eric and Tim to reach them before she reached her hand up. "Tim, baby, why don't you have a seat? The doctor should be out shortly with an update." She stood, watching as he bypassed all the seating to go to the window, staring outside. She frowned slightly as he removed something from his pocket, beginning to run his thumb over it. Like a lucky charm or something.

As she studied him, he did nothing. Nothing but stare out the window and play with the charm in his hand. She pursed her lips, wondering about him. He was…he was just not responding. It was like Jason Street all over again. She nodded to Eric, who was surveying Tim. "How do you think he is?"

"Denial, but he's resilient. Won't think of any future where Billy doesn't pull out of this." Eric sighed hard, reaching for her shoulders, wrapping her up tight, and whispering into her ear. "How is Tyra?"

"Coping." That was the only word she could come up with for Tyra's situation. She rubbed at her forehead. Hell, no one had brought up the three boys. They were at the house, with Bud Jr. watching them. Apparently it wasn't the first time he'd babysat them; Stevie seemed to like him.

Tami was trying to think of something else to talk about, maybe suggest that they split up and she take Tyra back home to get something to eat and nap when she saw a door open out of the corner of her eye, down the corridor towards the operating rooms. The first thought she had was that doctors didn't show a lot of emotion, the way the two of them were coming down the hall, almost in slow motion, their faces completely impassive. Like stone, she thought. The second one she had was that it was not good news. Call it a mother's intuition or something, but this was for them, and this was not good.

She tightened her hold on Eric, whispering. "Get Tim, now."

"What's going…" Her husband's voice caught in his throat when he saw the doctors opening up one of the outer doors, stepping into a small entryway where the nurse and administrator sat, blocking off the mysterious hallway from the loving family members in the waiting room. He let go of her, immediately going towards Tim.

The doctors stepped out, approaching Tim. Tyra gasped, covering her mouth and standing from the couch, while Tami reached for her, watching from across the room as Tim, flanked by Eric on one side and Buddy Garrity on the other, stood and stared as the two doctors, squaring off in front of him, relayed the news.

She closed her eyes when she heard Tim's soft. "No." It was just so quiet, across the quiet waiting room. She imagined they shared it here because there was no one else waiting. Maybe it was…maybe it was just not good news, but…not what she thought. She closed her eyes even tighter at Tim's more anguished "No!" Oh my God, she thought, sending an instant prayer upward for the three boys who were now orphans.

"No, no, no, no, no," Tim kept repeating, his voice never rising. He shook his head, turning away from the doctors, his arms wrapping around himself, saying nothing and leaning against the window, looking out. Eric and Buddy stepped back, giving him space as he immediately withdrew into himself.

It was so strange, Tami thought. She'd been there when the doctors told her that her mother had passed away, when she was a girl. She'd felt nothing. And she'd been there when Eric had heard the news his grandfather had died. It was sudden and shocking, it had been from a car accident. He hadn't flipped out, but his mother had gone crazy, sobbing about how it wasn't possible and they were wrong and to bring him back.

It wasn't in Tim's nature to be outwardly emotional, but she expected…well she wasn't sure what she expected. He turned around again and she saw his face was twisted in pain, his eyes shining. He seemed to stumble a little, with Eric helping him stand up as the doctors kept talking. Finally, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, succumbing to the acceptance. He nodded at something a doctor said, following them through the doors, Eric right behind him, while Buddy just stood in shock at the windows.

Tyra began to cry, shoving her face into her shoulder, holding tight. All she could do was hold the poor girl aloft. She lowered her down to the couch, letting go of her and standing quickly, hurrying to Buddy Garrity. "What…what…how?" she stammered. I just need an answer to give her. She crossed her arms over her chest, tugging the cable-knit cardigan she'd been wearing for the last week tighter around her. I just need an answer, Tami thought, even though she knew it wouldn't answer the biggest question all of them had at the moment. Why?

How was what she wanted answered, listening as Buddy explained, in a stilted way, that it was just massive bleeding they couldn't stop. It kept breaking or something. They'd taken out his spleen. They'd taken out part of his liver…he just couldn't keep up with the stress or something. So they'd taken Tim back to view his body. Oh my God, she thought, covering her face with her hands. They lowered to her mouth, folding tightly, her mind racing. A double funeral. They would have to get everything done quickly. They'd have to call the family lawyer, to make sure there wasn't a will…

They'd go from there, she thought, nodding and turning away from Buddy, going back to Tyra and holding her again. She bent her head to Tyra's, whispering. "It was internal bleeding. Tim's back there, I…do you want to…?"

"No," Tyra whispered. She stood up, reaching for her bag. She shook her head, walking around her towards the elevator. "I have to get to the boys right now. I need my nephews."

Yes, that's a good idea, a very good idea. The boys. Life, joy, things that were good. She needed to be around that right now. Tami sent Eric another text they were going to the house to be with the boys. He didn't respond, but she didn't expect him to reply. They drove in silence to the house, where Tyra almost flung herself from the moving car before it stopped. "Tyra, Tyra wait!" she called. She didn't want her to run in there and scare them, but it was too late, with Tyra rushing through the front door.

I know this hurts, I know this hurts, but you can't just break in there. She stepped into the ranch house, pushing her sunglasses up and glancing around. She'd never been in the Riggins house, but it was very quaint. She imagined under Billy and Tim's lifestyle it hadn't been this…homey. She glanced sideways, towards a door leading into a laundry room, but there was light voices coming from a room on the other side. She lifted her hand at Bud, who was getting up from the couch, confused at the sudden intrusion. "Just," she said, keeping him there and stepping beyond the door into the living room and then into a bedroom, which she imagined used to be the garage, but had been turned into a bedroom.

There were two cribs pushed against the wall, with a bookcase and a rocker set between them. A changing table was against another wall. She stood in place, seeing Tyra on the floor, in the center of a bunch of toys, holding one of the twins. He was the only one with brown hair, while Stevie and the other twin, Ricky, she remembered, had blond hair. Stevie was seated next to her, while Ricky just played in a corner, chattering about his toys. Stevie looked up, smiling a little. "Hi," he said. He held up a large block set he'd snapped together. "I did this."

Oh you sweet little boy. Tami spoke, her voice catching in her throat. She cleared it, smiling briefly, trying not to cry. Be strong Tami Taylor, she told herself. Don't scare them. "That's very good work," she said, lowering her purse to the ground. She sat across from Tyra, who was just rocking with Nicky in her arms.

She'd taken classes on how to share bad news with children, to get her Master's in counseling. It never got easier. There was an art to doing it. Especially to young, young children. The twins were happy right now, but there was no amount of telling them that Mommy and Daddy were never coming home that thye would understand. They were two. They just wouldn't understand. They would accept that their parents weren't there and they would love whomever was and then one day they would know the truth.

Stevie though…she glanced at Tyra, who hadn't said a word. "That's a lovely toy Stevie," she said, reaching for one of the blocks. She tossed her hair out of her eyes, whispering. "Why don't you show me how you build it in your room, okay? I have…I have to talk to you about something with Aunt Tyra." She met Tyra's eyes.

Tyra's forehead was wrinkled, her eyes pleading not to do this. No. They had to do it now, when Stevie was engaged in something. When he wasn't already upset or distressed because they weren't there. "Please," Tyra whispered.

I know baby. I know you don't want to do this. "Tyra," she said, clearing her throat again. She stood up, her fingers shaking. "Why don't we go with Stevie and play? I think Nicky and Ricky will be fine in here with Bud." She looked up at the door, where Bud was standing, nodding quickly, and his face ashen. He was holding his cell phone; Buddy had surely told him by now. She ignored her buzzing phone, which was probably Eric's response to her earlier text, walking out of the room with Stevie and Tyra, going into his little room, painted in trains and cars.

Tami brought him into her lap in his little armchair set in the corner, with Tyra kneeling in front of him and between the both of them, with degrees in child psychology, they very slowly began to break the news to the four-year old that he was an orphan. And the entire time, Tami just wondered where he would go now.


	4. Fate is Screwed Up

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews. The next few chapters are dark, but it's around chapter six when things look up a bit.

* * *

_**4. ...Fate Is Screwed Up**_

Cremation, it was kind of morbid, Tim thought, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't want to pick out caskets. He didn't want to deal with liners and suits and all kinds of absolute bullshit that people made money off of when someone else died. He didn't want to pay for some stupid thing that Billy wasn't even going to know he was wearing because he was dead in a box and then was going to be put in the damn ground. He didn't want to stand there, while people spoke in front of the boxes, because that's what they were, in essence, boxes, and said things about Mindy and Billy. He didn't want to get dressed up either. It wasn't them. They didn't do things like that.

So he'd put his foot down, after he'd been forced to finally face that they had to make a decision, with Coach, Mrs. Taylor, and Tyra at the kitchen table, and he said he wanted Billy cremated. Tyra eventually agreed. They'd put them in the same plot, she'd suggested.

And then what the hell are we going to do with the urns before that, he'd wondered out loud. He didn't want his brother sitting on his mantle staring at him for the rest of his life, let alone a few days. He didn't want to throw the ashes around either. So Coach Taylor said that it would be nice if they had a memorial service. Not really a funeral, but just a service, where people could offer their condolences. The urn would be there and then they'd inter it in the cemetery and everything.

So that would be today. The memorial service. It had been two full weeks. How was that possible? He'd just kind of been wandering around now, he guessed, trying to just be with his nephews. Trying to just…whatever. Forget it. Move on. Every time he did something he wanted to tell his brother. Then he'd remember. And it was like losing him all over again.

I don't care, he thought. That was the one thought that kept repeating. He didn't care. Which meant that he did. His thoughts were an absolute mess, jumping around in his head. He saw Billy. Saw him lying there on a table, looking dead. He was dead. Tim didn't think he'd be able to handle it, but somehow he had. He wanted to see him, to make sure the doctor wasn't lying. To make sure it wasn't some joke. That his stupid good for nothing big brother wasn't pulling a fast one on him. He planned to kill him if that was the case.

In the back of his mind, he thought how…cruel it seemed that he'd lost three people in the span of a month. Three people he loved. There was Mindy, who he loved like an annoying big sister and a pseudo-mother, which she was to him. And then there was…his brother. He heaved a deep breath, swallowing it back quickly. It threatened to choke him. All he wanted to do was talk to him. To tell him about what…what happened a few weeks ago. Why he went to Tennessee. He'd lost something he didn't even know he had when she'd called, telling him. He'd driven to be with her…he didn't want her alone as she went through what she went through.

"Well you're all together," he mumbled. If you believed in that sort of thing. He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. It was so empty. Coach Taylor was the only one in the house right now with him. Probably to keep me from blowing my brains out or something, he thought. He closed his eyes, wishing that he could wake up. This was all a dream. He was going to get out of this bed and his brother would be alive.

God, I hate you Billy, he thought. I don't like hating people, but I hate you right now. You idiot, you never, ever take Smith Road after a football game, all the drunks take Smith Road, all the idiots that get in their car and they can't see because there's that turn and there's no streetlights and then they lose control of their cars and they slam into a minivan on its way home from a game with two parents inside on their way home to their three happy rugrats.

I should get dressed. The service thing was soon. He didn't expect Tyra to come in and help him. Tyra had her own issues to contend with. I should probably talk to her, he thought. Should probably talk about the kids. Figure out what they were going to do with them. He got up from the bed, shuffling to his closet, where he stared at the clothes lined up. So tonight was the memorial service. It was all very, very fast. They were having it at a funeral home. Then they'd all come back here. The internment would be tomorrow at the cemetery. Just him, Tyra, and probably Angela, since Tyra said they'd released her. She was with some friends of Mindy's from the Landing Strip, taking care of her. I can't deal with her, Tyra told him last night. She'd taken to coming into his room and just sitting on the bed. He wondered if it made her feel better. So he let her do it. What about the boys, he thought for a second, turning away from the closet. He didn't want to think of this right now.

I want my brother. He closed his eyes, whispering. "Where are you Billy?" he whispered out loud. He opened his eyes and looked out the window, walking over and slumped down onto the picture window seat; looking out his front 'yard' he supposed you could call it. The house was set close enough to the road where you could see it if you were driving by, but he still had a good line view of most of his land from how he'd angled the house. He pushed his hand through his hair, shaking it out. I need to get it cut, he thought briefly. I want Billy, he thought again. I want Billy. It kept intruding. You can't have Billy. Billy's dead. Billy's an idiot. Billy was your brother. He was stupid and dumb and made bad choices, but he cleaned up in the end.

Maybe that's why I'm angry. If he was angry at all, he wasn't sure how he felt. Numb. Just…just numb. Two weeks. Two whole weeks since the accident and he didn't know how he was supposed to be dealing with this. I have to get to the house, be with the kids, he thought again. Stevie, Nicky, and Ricky didn't have parents. Hannibal said he'd be by next week for the will reading, it was still sealed, so no one knew where those kids were going to go. "Billy had a will," he'd wondered out loud yesterday, after Hannibal had called him back. "Seriously?"

Mrs. Taylor told him after most people had children they tended to draft a will or at least have some sort of a known plan for what happened to their kids if they weren't able to be there. It was a parent thing. It didn't sound like a Billy thing, although Mindy was a great mother. It was probably her idea. But did it really matter?

Billy wasn't going to be there for his sons. Just like our dad was never there for us. I thought that's why I left. His eyes narrowed, watching a strange car pull into his driveway, coming to stop behind his truck. He saw the driver climb out, his eyes closing. Relief washed over him. Mixed with a strange sense of happiness, like his stomach was floating. Oh thank God, he thought briefly, getting up from the picture window and leaving his room for the first time in about five hours.

He walked slowly down the stairs, looking sideways to his right, into the living area that stretched from the front of the house to the back, seeing Coach Taylor working on some sort of football play, game film playing on the flatscreen in front of him. "You alright Tim?" he called out. "Tim?" Tim said nothing, slowly walking across the short foyer to the front door.

It squeaked, which he liked, when he opened it. It made it seem like the house was older than two and a half years old. There was still a lot of work he had to do on it. Painting, trim needed put in, and he still had to get faceplates for much of the lights. He stepped off the porch, walking towards the driver, and walking right into her as she held her arms out, dropping her back. She immediately placed her hand on the back of his head, almost cradling him as he slumped down against her, burying his face into her chest. She almost sobbed, holding him tight. I need this, he thought vaguely. It felt good. She always felt good but now it felt better to have someone…stupid as it was, hold him like he was a kid. She was here, he thought again. I should say something, he thought, several seconds later. "Thank you," he whispered, knowing this was hard for her to do. Very hard, given what went on between them a few weeks ago.

Lyla nodded, her arms like a vice around him. She stroked at his hair and smoothed her hand along his back. She brushed her lips against his ear. "I had to be here. I just had to be here. I'm here." She paused. "It's okay." She kissed him again, lightly on his lips, breathing against him. "I'm here for you." She stroked his face, smiling sadly, tears flooding her dark eyes. "It's okay."

No, it wasn't okay, but thank God she was here. He turned his face into her dark hair, smelling lavender. Always lavender, she never changed her shampoo. He felt like he could wrap his arms around her three or four times, just holding her. He felt his shoulders start to shake, but he didn't really cry. It was more like gasping sobs. I just…I need my brother, he thought, not allowing himself to really show that emotion the last week. He just couldn't do it. It would mean Billy was actually gone. "He's gone," he mumbled.

Lyla kissed his cheek, murmuring into his ear. "He's not really gone. Come on sweetie, let's get you inside. Come on." Sweetie, he thought. Like a little kid. She never called him sweetie when they were together. Sometimes 'babe' or 'baby' but never sweetie. Mostly her term of endearment for him was 'Asshole.'

Okay. Inside. Tim turned a little, his arm still around her, while she helped him up into the house like an invalid. I'm fine, he protested silently, he felt her lead him upstairs and into his room. He waved at everything. Clothes strewn around, empty water and beer bottles, and dirty sheets and towels piled in laundry baskets. "It's a mess," he mumbled.

"It can be a mess," she said. She guided him towards his bed. Somehow he wasn't sure how to do anything anymore. It made him feel stupid. She sat down beside him, holding his hand. Just waiting. Her fingers clutched at his and she ran her hand over his, comforting.

He glanced towards her. "He's dead."

Her forehead wrinkled, her big dark eyes shining. She nodded a little, the cross necklace on her throat bobbing with it. "Yeah," she said. She swallowed hard. "Yeah, he's passed away." Passed away. That sounded so…so her. He reached into his pocket; removing the small charm she'd given him in Nashville, pressing it into her palm. Her fingers closed around it, pressing it back towards him. "Keep it," she said. She smiled a little, her forehead touching his. "It was a gift."

A gift. Sure. Tim looked down at the charm. It was of a panther, just a silver little charm, probably something she'd picked up in a gift shop on some fabulous trip or another, like she'd been taking the last few years. It seemed she was almost never in the country, too busy going out into the world to help people. He didn't know what it meant though. Gifts were gifts, but for some reason, when she gave him this one, he thought it had some greater meaning to it. A panther charm on a thin leather strap. It was too small to go around a wrist, not that he'd wear anything like that. It wasn't a keychain. It was just…just something to hold, he guessed. He'd been holding it, when the doctor came over and told him about Billy. It had imprinted itself in his hand for the rest of the day. All he saw when he looked at his palm was a panther outline. He looked at her again, whispering. "Are you alright? Like…to travel?" He reached his hand around to her side, gently holding her to him.

She covered his hand with hers, nodding. "Tim I'm fine…my body is fine. My mind is fine…this isn't about me." Her voice firmed a little and she touched his face again, focusing on him. "This is you. I'm here for you." They touched foreheads again, just sitting. It had been a rough few weeks for them.

He closed his eyes, sighing. "They're all gone." He waited a moment, breathing. "They're both gone…and you and me…"

"We didn't get a chance to really lose…" She bit her lip, shaking her head briefly, whispering. "That's different Tim. What we lost. This is different. This is your loss…this is…the kids…oh God, the kids…where are they?"

"Tyra's with them," he murmured. At the house, he thought. He blinked a few more times, looking over at her again, breathing. "She's staying here."

She nodded and waited, still holding onto him. "What time is the service today?"

I don't know. Sometime in the evening. Hopefully there weren't going to be a lot of people there, but he doubted it. Billy was in the football world. Half the town was going to be in his house and he didn't want them there or care. Tim got up from the bed, going to the closet, staring at it again. He turned away and climbed back into his bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders. I'm tired. Maybe he could sleep some more. He tossed them back, leaning on his elbows, looking at her. She hadn't moved from the edge of the bed; watching him. Don't look at me like that, like one of your charity cases, he thought. His throat burned. "You want to get a drink?" he asked.

He saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face. "A drink?"

"Yeah, let's get a drink. I'm sick of this place."

"Do you think that's wise right now?" She pressed her lips into a thin line, waited a moment and then shrugged, smiling. "Okay." He arched an eyebrow. That was odd. She threw her hands up in the air, following him towards the door. "Why not? Let's get a drink. Where do you want to get a drink at ten in the morning?"

"We could go to your dad's bar."

"He can't serve liquor until after one. It's in his license."

"So we take it."

"Because breaking the law is a good thing to do Tim Riggins."

Why not? Worked for Billy. He shrugged, smiling darkly and jumping the last three steps, swinging around the newel post, leaning over it and tapping her nose. He flashed a grin. "Breaking the law sounds like a great thing to do right now." Lyla froze at the base of the stairs. She lifted her eyebrow, saying nothing. "Uh oh," he teased, reaching around and wrapping his arms around her, pinning hers to her sides. She pulled slightly, but not as hard as he knew she could. She cocked her head, scowling at him. He made a sad face. "Lyla's upset. What did I do now?" He laughed. "I fuck up your life even more now Garrity?"

"Tim." She shook her head. "Don't do this."

"I'm just the loser right? The one that can't go five minutes without a drink, right? The one that you left? The one…" he trailed off, pointing at her, whispering. "The one who knock…"

"Shut up," she snapped. She stepped off the bottom stair. "Stop this Tim." The way she said it made him sound like he was one of the little kids in her little charity program, getting in trouble. The kindergarten teacher inside of her was showing.

Fine I'll stop. But stop what anyways? Stop acting like everything's okay that my brother is dead? Stop moping and mourning? He let go of her, backing away towards the door, suddenly extremely pissed off. He'd done a total 180 from how he felt earlier when he saw her walking towards the porch. That instant, he'd been relieved, he'd been waiting for her and was so happy to see her. Now he was pissed off that she was here. "Why'd you come back?" he demanded.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not doing this with you."

"Let go of me!" he hissed when she tried to grab his arm. He swung it away, seeing Coach get up from the living room. Uh-oh, I'm in trouble now, huh? I got Coach and I got Charity Garrity riding my ass now. He pushed his hands through his hair, gripping at it, his eyes closing. "I want a drink!"

"Then get a drink!" Lyla yelled. She stormed by him, shouting. "That going to make you feel better Tim? Huh? I can't believe you haven't had an entire case of beer by now, it's only ten in the morning. It's been a week since Billy passed away and you haven't had a drink? Here, here you go…" She flung open the fridge, grabbing all the beers on the shelf, dragging them out and crashing them into the sink. She turned around, opening up one, throwing the cap at him. She held it out, her eyes wide. "Here you go Tim. Here's a drink. Here's another, I'll get it ready for you."

She did another; and another, and another, until there were six open beers on the counter. A regular Monday night for him a few years ago, but he couldn't remember having that much in one sitting in the last year or so. Her eyes were wide and her voice hard as steel. "That's not it for you huh? You want something else? Something hard. You probably have whiskey around here. That's your second favorite, isn't it? You know me, I like a good tequila, so let's see if you, oh look!" She turned a bottle of Petron around on the shelf, grinning. "My favorite guy!"

He felt stupid, seeing her ripping apart his kitchen. He closed his eyes. "What are you doing?" he mumbled, staring at her. She'd jumped completely off the deep end. Although this wouldn't be the first time Lyla went to an extreme to prove a point to him. He had a vague recollection of standing on the side of a freezing road because she was pissed at him.

"No Tim, what are you doing," she whispered. She set the beers in the sink, walking towards him, her eyes not breaking from his. She shrugged, her arms crossing over her chest. "Billy died, Tim. Mindy died too. They're both gone and no amount of you moping around here or drinking the pain away is going to change that. I know you don't show your feelings the way a lot of people do, but…but going into denial and just drinking is not going to make them come back and it's not going to change anything." She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, lowering it to hers, whispering. "We lost something together. I was devastated and you…you didn't even know but you helped me. With everything I was going through…my mom, the…the thing." He flinched at her calling it 'the thing.' She furrowed her brow. "You really helped me, but…I can't help you with this if you're going to revert back to your old self. I know that's not who you are now."

Maybe it wasn't. He wanted his brother. He bit his lip hard, tasting copper. It had been a long time since he'd tasted blood. It felt weird. "I want him back," he whispered. I want him back more than I ever wanted Jason to walk again. More than I ever wanted you to stay. More than I ever wanted anything in my entire life, which really wasn't much. I want Billy back. He closed his eyes tight. He sobbed. "I want my brother." I can't do this by myself. What about Stevie and the twins? Am I supposed to take care of them? I went to jail. I went to jail for Stevie so he could have a father…now what? I can't be their father…I can't be anyone's father. He glanced at her, sadness creeping back over him. Melancholy. Fate had corrected itself there.

Lyla rose on her toes, wrapping herself around him again. "I know."

A surge of anger pushed through him. He tightened his grip around her, his teeth gritting. "I hate him for leaving."

"I kind of hate him for leaving too."

The doctor said it was pointless. He'd lost so much blood when they brought him in anyway, they'd removed too much…he was just maxed out. His body had had enough of the surgery and the trauma and it shut down after that latest surgery. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, he thought, closing his eyes. When he'd arrived, they'd put Billy back in that coma. I didn't say goodbye. He hiccupped hard, feeling his throat constrict. It threatened to kill him, a sudden inability to breathe. He pushed his forehead into her shoulder. "I didn't say nice things to him."

No one knew that. In the last week, no one knew that when he left Billy a few weeks ago, to drive the zillion hours it took to Nashville, Tennessee, against Billy's advice, that he'd been fighting with him. Billy had opinions on the matter of coming to Lyla's aide, especially since in Billy's opinion it wasn't Tim's business why he was going to be with her. He told Billy to just keep his opinion to himself, it didn't get him anywhere before. It wasn't like him, but he was mad at Billy for once again trying to push into his life and make decisions he thought were best without thinking of other people.

He let go of her, ignoring Coach Taylor's quiet question on whether he was alright. He trudged back up the stairs and into his bedroom, falling forward onto his bed. He crawled back beneath the covers again and closed his eyes. She crawled onto the bed beside him a moment later, her arm around his waist. "You guys fought?"

"Yes. He didn't want me to see you."

"I understand."

No, you don't. Tim closed his eyes; he wanted to sleep now. He shook his head slightly, mumbling. "Do I have to dress up for this thing?"

"Not really."

"I'll wear a tie," he offered.

"Okay." Stop agreeing with me. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep now. He was drained. He didn't want to think about what he'd said to Billy. Didn't want to think about why Billy was angry at him for going to Tennessee. He slipped his hand from the pillow, touching her fingers, which were curled into his t-shirt. He fell asleep with her breathing behind him, saying nothing.

Almost an hour later he woke up to her whispering that it was time for him to get dressed, for the memorial service. How people were showing up already and they were going to go soon. He got out of bed and she helped him get dressed, choosing a suit and tie for him to wear. He didn't protest against it, even if he didn't want to wear the monkey suit. "I forget how to do this," he said, letting his hands fall away from the tie.

"Here," she said, taking the tie from around his neck, straightening it up in her hands. She stood behind him, looking into the mirror and wrapped it around his neck, speaking softly on how to loop it all in and tugged the perfect knot up to his throat, but not too tight. Her hand pressed against the center of his chest. "I always like a man in a tie," she teased, kissing his cheek. "I'm going to go get my bag and get dressed. I'll be at Buddy's tonight."

"Stay here," he whispered.

Lyla stood in the doorway, her hand on the knob. She ran her tongue over her teeth, her brow furrowed. "Do you think that's wise?"

No, I don't, but I don't care. He shrugged. "I just…" I just want to be near you. "Can you just do it? Please?"

After a second of glancing around the room, she nodded quickly, mouthing 'yeah' before closing the door behind her. Several minutes later she returned with her bag, letting him know that the kids were across the hall with Mrs. Taylor. Tyra and her mother were downstairs with Coach. Julie and Matt would be here soon.

His cell phone rang on the nightstand; it was Jason, letting him know he was about ten minutes away. "I'm here for you Timmy," he said.

"Thanks." He left the room, letting Lyla dress, and went into the room the twins were using with Stevie, finding the three of them sitting on the floor with Mrs. Taylor, who was wearing a pretty black dress.

I wonder what's going to happen with you three, he thought, kneeling down beside Stevie. "Can I play?" he whispered. Stevie passed him the action figure and he twisted the machine human thing around in his hands a few times, finally passing it back. "Cool toy."

Stevie didn't say anything. He hadn't said much of anything since they told him about Mindy and Billy. The twins were clueless. They kept asking and cried when they couldn't get their parents. Then they went to sleep and woke up again. Tim leaned against the wall, looking around the room. He had to paint this room too. Move the toddler beds he had in the barn to here, along with the lofted bed he'd gotten for Stevie, to go over the toddler beds, so the three of them could have a room here. Just to visit.

Maybe live.

His heart flipped in his chest. He wondered if that would be what would end up happening. I can't raise three kids on my own, he thought, panicking slightly at the thought. The idea of one kid was daunting. Had been daunting. Now three? It didn't seem to make any sense to him how the world worked.

Mrs. Taylor smiled at him, holding Nicky in her lap. "You'll be fine Tim."

Tim glanced at her, smiling wryly. "Fine at what?"

She didn't answer for several minutes, choosing instead to play with the twins and focus on the blocks in front of her. Finally, when Tim was going to get up and leave, but it seemed like she didn't want to continue with her thoughts, Mrs. Taylor smiled, her eyes shining. She nodded a little, almost sizing him up. "Yeah," she murmured, glancing back down at the twins. "You'll be just fine at it."

Fine at what, he wondered, although deep in his gut he knew. He tugged Stevie a little closer to his chest, twisting the head of the action figure around on its shoulders, where the eyes lit up and sounds blasting from the tiny speakers in the action figure's chest. He'd be fine, Mrs. Taylor said, well…Tim wasn't so sure he was going to be fine at it. Fine at being a dad? Yeah right, he scoffed with a snort.


	5. Old Friends Will Appear

_**5. ...Old Friends Will Appear**_

What was she doing here, Tyra wondered, sitting in the corner of the living room at the house, peering at Lyla, while people walked around her, talking and reminiscing. It was getting late, but she didn't want to start kicking people out like it was last call or something. It was a memorial service. She had managed to hold it together through the entire service probably because it was just an urn and not two caskets sitting up at the head of the room surrounded by flowers.

Stevie came up beside her, crawling into her lap on the armchair. "Hi Tyra," he said, his head going to touch her shoulder. He pulled his knees up, twisting his neck and smiling up at her. "Hi."

She quirked her lip up, kissing his blonde head. "What's up kid?"

"I had fifty cheese puffs."

Yes, I'm sure you did. Stevie's love affair with cheese was known to both her and Tim. She'd made sure to get that on the caterer's menu for this thing solely for Stevie. "Fifty, huh? Your stomach's going to turn into a cheese wheel."

"Really?" he chirped.

"Totally." Tyra scanned the room; she knew just about a quarter of the people here. The rest were Mindy's friends from high school and the Landing Strip and her Mommy and Me classes. Billy's friends were all football people and she was thankful Tim was mostly corralling them, but he'd been distant too. His pitbulls were also keeping people from really engaging with him or getting him to talk. Jason flanked his left side, seemingly in charge of keeping him from drinking anything other than water, while Lyla flanked his right, playing the music for people who spoke to Tim longer than two minutes or dared to bring up something that upset him. One of the strippers had tried to get touchy-feely with him, comforting him no doubt, and Lyla had almost ripped her head off right in front of everyone. Jason had helped as well, using his chair as a blocking device.

At least he had them, because she didn't have the time and energy to keep him from losing his mind. It just annoyed her that she had to do a lot of the planning. Her sister died first and he hadn't been there for her…and she had to plan everything. Although he had helped with the boys, but…but seriously though, what was Lyla doing here, Tyra frowned again, looking the other woman up and down. Her hair was short, almost like a bob, just a little longer, the dark ends swinging against her shoulders. She had some sort of worldly glow about her and wore several bracelets on her wrists, clearly handmade. She wore a square-neck black cap-sleeve dress with black flats. The dress fell to her knees. Still conservative, our little Lyla Garrity, Tyra thought, throwing back the last of the glass of wine in her fingertips.

She didn't think Tim spoke to Lyla anymore. Then she'd come back to his house after getting ready for the service, to drive off together with Tim and the kids, when she saw the other woman standing in the kitchen, emptying out open beer bottles on the counter. They hadn't said much. Lyla gave her sympathies, which Tyra found to be more annoying that anything else, because she was quite sure that while Lyla was expressing them, she was praying. Tyra didn't want to hear it, because she didn't want to have to cope with her issues, three kids, and then an upset Tim when Lyla left him again, so she'd been keeping her distance.

Her eyes darted towards Julie and Matt, who were talking with one of the other Dillon coaches. She thought she recognized him, but she wasn't sure. They couldn't stay long, Matt didn't have long away from the gallery where he worked and Julie was in an unpaid internship that wasn't going to hold her spot for too long. She just wanted her friends. Before it all faded away and she was stuck holding the rest of the pieces. Her eyes closed. I want my sister.

"This seat taken?"

Tyra tossed her bangs from her eyes, looking up and staring in surprise at the owner of the voice, which broke her from her thoughts. She blinked a few times. "Landry," she exclaimed. She glanced at the folding chair next to her. "Ah…no."

What was he doing here? She swallowed hard, glancing at Stevie, who was peering at Landry curiously. New people fascinated Stevie. He was very personable. This whole evening had been kind of chaotic for him and upsetting, naturally, but he was holding his own. She reached over and gave him another hug. He wrapped his arm back around her, returning it. "I'm Stevie," he whispered, looking up at Landry.

Landry knelt down to Stevie's level, lightly patting his arm. "I'm sorry about your mom and dad," he said, treating him like a little adult. People needed to do that more than they did, she thought, as Stevie withdrew slightly. He smiled, touching Stevie's chest. "But they're right there. Whenever you want them."

Stevie smiled a little, whispering. "Miss Lyla says that they're in Heaven. That they will watch me always and I can talk to them and they'll hear me."

He smiled a little wider. "Miss Lyla is a smart lady." He glanced up at her, screwing up his face lightly and mouthing 'Lyla's back?'

She nodded towards Tim. Lyla had her arm around his shoulders, talking to someone who was apparently staying too long and upsetting him. He idly brushed his hand over hers and she rubbed at his shoulder like he was a kid. "Yeah," she murmured, lifting her eyebrows. "Lyla's back."

"She's like a guard dog over there. So is Jason."

Jason chose that moment to literally snap at someone, moving his chair to block people from Tim again, as Lyla turned him away from the line, both of them moving him towards the window and Jason going to get food. She gestured towards them, as though no words were needed. Landry nodded. "Well…he needs it."

Yes, he did. She ran her fingers over her forehead, closing her eyes. She opened them at the sound of footsteps approaching her. One of Mindy's friends. "Ty-Ty I am so sorry!" she exclaimed, tottering on stripper heels. Shit, she thought, glancing at a few other of Mindy's friends who were wearing what they must have thought were tasteful black outfits, but the Lucite heels were a bit of an issue. "I'm Angel, I've known your sister since we were in school." She sniffed, wiping at her eyes, choking. "Knew her."

Don't use the past tense, she thought, looking up, her face tight. "That's nice. Thank you." She pushed up to her feet, stepping around Angel and walked right into a group of other people wanting to give their condolences. She nodded and turned away, right into someone else. Help, she wanted to scream, letting out a gasp. It was like the walls were closing in on her. I can't breathe.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Landry step between her and a group of Mindy's friends, while Julie took on another. An arm wrapped around her shoulders and walked her out of the living room and to the staircase, taking her up and into her room. She looked up; it was Mrs. Taylor. Of course. "You needed to get out of there," Tami said, handing her a glass of water. "Drink. Slowly."

Tears trickled down her face, smearing her makeup. "I thought I could do this," she whispered. I'm strong. I'm Tyra. She wiped at her eyes, smudging it even more. She glanced sideways. "It's just everyone wants to talk about them, you know? I can't talk about them….and the kids just…they're so clueless, I mean…Stevie is the only one who knows. Ricky and Nicky are so small…they ask for them but when they don't get them they don't freak. Stevie doesn't get it. He thinks they're coming back."

I can't make that stop. I can't make it better. She wiped her eyes again, hiccupping. Tami hugged her close, whispering and running her hand over her hair, stroking. That felt nice. "We'll work with Stevie. We'll work together. I'm not going to leave you Tyra. This is…this is just horror and I can't imagine what you and Tim are going through, but you're going through it together and he has people there. I'll be here for you."

Thank you. She nodded quickly, closing her eyes and whispering. "I want him to burn in hell," she murmured, thinking of the driver that hit them. Most drunk drivers survived because of the physics of how they usually hit the car. They were lax, they didn't seize up upon impact. Only this time the driver didn't have on a seatbelt and well, she didn't have anyone to kill herself.

"I know," Tami murmured.

She sniffed. My life is on hold. I'm going to end up being a mother. She looked over at her, whispering. "Hannibal is going to read the will Monday. I don't know where they wanted the kids to go…my mom can't take care of them…I was never here. I just wanted out so badly that I was never here for…"

"Don't," Tami interrupted. She shook her head. "Tyra, don't do that to yourself. You were allowed to live your life. You were allowed to move away, don't you dare blame yourself for living your life and not being here."

It's just so easy. She looked away, her shoulders slumping. I am so tired, she thought. She rolled over onto the side of the bed, curling into a ball. She felt Mrs. Taylor drape a blanket over her and she closed her eyes. I need to sleep. I haven't slept in weeks. She opened her eyes briefly, seeing out the door to the hallway, where Landry was talking to Tami. I can't hear you if you're talking about me, she thought, closing her eyes again.

She then distinctly heard Landry's voice. "I'll stay here and watch her."

You're gonna' what? Tami cleared her throat. "Thank you Landry. I'll get everyone out of the house. Where's Tim?"

"Jason and Lyla took him and the kids outside to throw a football around. Keep him busy."

"That's good. You take Tyra for now. I'll be back later."

Landry you are not going to watch me sleep, she thought, her eyes refusing to open. There was a light brushing over fingers over her hair. "I'll be outside if you need me," he whispered. And then she felt lips brush her temple. That was nice, she thought, sighing. And then she fell asleep, not thinking of anything. She physically couldn't anymore.


	6. There's No Such Thing as Coincidence

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! I promise it starts looking up after Chapter 7. This chapter explains what went on with Tim and Lyla. It will have a purpose later.

* * *

_**6. ...There No Such Thing as a Coincidence**_

"Is he sleeping?"

She glanced sideways, nodding when she saw the even rise and fall of his chest. She released the breath she'd been holding and pushed her book onto the nightstand beside the chair. "Yeah," she murmured, leaning over her knees. She lifted her eyes to Jason, who was right by her so they wouldn't have to talk loudly. "Where's Coach Taylor?"

"I sent him home. Didn't think we'd need him until later," Jason whispered. He ran his tongue over his teeth, looking to the door and back to her. "They're reading the will in a few. Hannibal's in a case or something now…he'll be by around five."

She checked her watch. It was about one. "Where are the kids?" They hadn't been back to the old house that she knew of. Tim refused to step foot there. Coach said that it had been up to him, Tami, Matt, and Julie to go through the house and search for things. Wills, medical records, that sort of thing. Her responsibility had been to Tim. They'd survived the memorial service. Hannibal had delayed the will reading to Monday so she'd been with him throughout the weekend. It hadn't been that bad; he just needed things to take his mind off of the fact that his brother was dead. Easier said than done.

In the end, she'd gotten him to work around his house. Building the back porch. Painting. They even went up onto the roof to fix some shingles and she'd hauled up some beers. They'd spent most of last night just hanging out on his roof as she told him about college; they'd just seen each other. It wasn't like things had changed in the few weeks that he'd raced back to Dillon and she'd arrived at his front door. They still had their…issue. It was easier to think of it that way, other than what it was.

I could kill you Billy, she thought, looking over at Tim, who was hugging his pillow. He's been through so much. Now this… She cleared her throat, looking at Jason. "Do you know what their will says? About the kids? Angela would probably be guardian, right?"

"I have no idea. Tyra's in school, Tim's…Tim. I would think." Jason looked to her again, smiling slightly. "You came out here for this."

She arched an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I Jason? This isn't…we've been talking." She bit her lip again, smiling once more. We've been doing more than talking. It felt…she looked away. It was just threatening to kill her. Having this secret. Just between her and Tim. Jason should know. "Can I tell you something?" she murmured, still looking away, focusing on Tim sleeping.

He moved closer to her. "Yeah. You can tell me anything Lyla."

I don't know. Sometimes I wonder where I still stand with you. She looked to him again, meeting his gaze. It felt kind of relieving, to share this. That's what the doctor said. She should talk about it. She cleared her throat, whispering. "He came to Vanderbilt. A few weeks ago…I…I called him because…I was going through some stuff." She touched her stomach. She closed her eyes, whispering. "This summer I was…I was in Africa and I just…I was doing this charity thing and…and we got out earlier than scheduled because there were some conflicts arising and they feared for our safety." She closed her eyes. This was harder than she thought. She rubbed at her temple, breathing. "My roommate didn't have the apartment ready so I though I'd visit…Mexico. See my dad before I went down there."

"You came back to Dillon?" he asked. He shrugged. "I didn't know that."

"Because I didn't come back to Dillon." She wiped at her eyes. "I mean…I did. I came back to Dillon to surprise my dad, but then I went on down to Mexico for some time." She looked to him again. Her voice softened, in case Tim was listening in as he slept. "I was down there and…hooked up with a guy." Jason squinted, his eyes darting to Tim, but she wasn't going to tell on that front. She cleared her throat, tugging on her hands. "I went back to Vanderbilt and…and I was in the middle of class and I just…felt bad. I was bleeding pretty badly and my roommate took me to the hospital when we figured out what was happening…" She waved her hand, breathing. "You probably can figure the rest." I don't really want to say it.

It took a moment, but Jason's face fell. "Oh Lyla."

"Yeah," she murmured, staring at Tim. "I hooked up with a guy in Mexico and about six weeks later, the result of that hookup went away."

Jason closed his eyes, whispering. "Lyla."

Her cheeks burned. She fixed her eyes on Tim. "And his brother, the one family member he had left in this world, is dead. I lost a baby and I called Tim to tell him. He was at my apartment with me like two days later," she said, almost sobbing. I owe it to him to be here for him. She wiped at her eyes. "And I feel like an idiot for freaking out over the fact that…that my mom and I were fighting over it because she's the only person who knows. She got mad at me like I did it on purpose or something…so I was upset about fighting with my mother and I lost a baby that wasn't even born. I didn't even get a chance to think about it." She blinked back tears. It was also silly to cry about it. She sobbed. "Tim lost his whole family."

There were bigger things going on in the world, she thought. She wiped her eyes again and Jason reached over, holding her hands. "Lyla." She looked at him. He was so earnest. He smiled sadly. "Everyone's pain is different Lyla. You can't compare them…look at the two of us, you know? My pain at losing my legs was different than your pain at losing your carefully planned future. It didn't make it any less painful. It was just different."

She swallowed. "As nice as that is Jason…my pain at my mother not talking to me right now and losing a baby I didn't even know I had, is absolutely nothing compared to what Tim is going through. To what Tyra or the boys are all going through. It's inconsequential."

"You lost a baby, Lyla. That's not inconsequential at all." He wrapped his arms around her wrists, holding them, his fingers still clenched together. He looked up at her, quiet. "Was it Tim's?"

All she had to do was close her eyes, tears leaking out. "It doesn't matter, we're not together," she said, clearing her throat and tossing her hair out of her eyes, looking at Tim again. I should probably explain. "I called him when I was in Mexico. Drunk. I didn't like being alone on the beach so he drove down to see me and…one bottle of tequila later, there we were, doing what we always did best." She scoffed. "Stupid. Now all this…it's funny how the world works, I mean…he lost the chance to be a dad because my body decided it wasn't the time and now here he is…probably going to have three kids."

"Lyla, it's still a big deal, I'm sure he's mourning it too, along with Mindy and Billy."

"It wasn't real to us," she murmured. She hadn't even known. It was just…it was something that happened and she called Tim in a moment of weakness when the doctor asked her if there was anyone she wanted to talk with about it. It had seemed more real to him when he showed up in Tennessee than it had to her. Then again, Tim always felt much more deeply than others. She shook her head. "No Jason. Tim is…he was upset about it, he was there for me…but this isn't that. This is losing your whole family. Not just the idea of it." She stood up from the chair, going over to check on Tim. She ran her fingers over his hair, pulling it from his face. He stirred a little. Damn, she didn't want to wake him up. "Go back to sleep, just checking on you," she whispered, kissing his forehead.

He rolled onto his back, reaching to scrub at his face. "Time 'zit?" he mumbled, blinking against the sunlight coming in through the windows. He coughed, sitting up against the headboard. "Hey Six."

"How you feeling?"

"Like shit. What time is it?" he repeated.

"About one, go back to sleep," she tried to say again, but he was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. She groaned. Of course he wouldn't listen. "Tim."

"Where are the boys?"

"Tyra and Landry have them right now, go back to sleep," she tried again. It was pointless now. She stood up again, watching him walk to the window and peer out it. The cars were all gone. Just Jason's rental handicap truck and her Jeep. She sighed, whispering. "I let Coach Taylor borrow your truck. He needed to go…" He had to go to the stadium, to help Buddy with Billy's office. She didn't think he'd want to hear that. She swallowed hard. "Pick up stuff."

"He's cleaning out shit, don't lie to me Garrity." He smiled, darkly. "I know when you lie."

Yes, but I'm trying to spare you. Of course she didn't need to spare him. She shrugged, her arms over her chest. "Fine. He's cleaning out shit." She paused. "Do you want to go to the store and get some things for the boys' room? I know that they're almost all done, but Stevie needs a new comforter. It might be nice."

He closed his eyes, scrubbing at his face again. "Fine," he said, dropping his hands to his sides. He nodded to the door. "Let me shower." He swallowed, a jaw moving in his jaw as he met her gaze. He narrowed his eyes slightly, the corners creasing. She pursed her lips, staring straight through them. Okay then.

They left the room, hearing the door lock flick behind them. Jason sighed, wheeling towards the back staircase, with its installed chair lift. "He's running."

"I'm already on it," she said, jogging ahead of Jason and down the front staircase, going out the front door and around the side of the house, waiting with her arms crossed over her chest as Tim dropped down from the sunroom's roof, which hung out over a knotted brush tree, perfect for climbing out of windows. His boots kicked up some dust as they hit the dirt and he turned, freezing. She wiggled her fingers at him, grinning. "Hi Tim."

He rolled his eyes. "The hell Lyla?"

"You're not running away."

"I don't need a babysitter, give me some space!"

She pushed at his shoulders, gripping tight, her eyes wide. "You might want space, but you do not need it. I can't give it to you right now Tim." She set her jaw. Tell him the truth. She bit her lip, tears trickling down her face. "I don't want you to hurt yourself…I know, I know…" She began to stroke his face as he tried turning away. "I know you wouldn't do anything on purpose, but Tim, right now you have to be focused. You just have to. There are three little boys riding on this."

He looked away from the land out beside them to meet her eyes. "The boys," he repeated. He set his jaw, waiting a moment. A whisper escaped him. "Angela."

Angela was out of the hospital and staying with Buddy, she thought. He was actually being very diligent about ensuring she didn't hurt herself again. Went to her therapy sessions. It was just an accident, he'd said, when she confronted him on having someone as emotionally distraught as Angela was at that moment in his house. Having the responsibility for her; he couldn't screw it up. Buddy had just told her that this was his…penance, he called it. She wasn't sure why he seemed guilty, but if he wanted to step up, she wouldn't stop him.

She sighed. "What about Angela?"

"She's their grandmother. She'll watch them." He stepped around her, slowly making his way around the front of the house to Jason, who was sitting on the porch. He hopped up, standing beside him. He looked at them both, rolling his eyes. "I'm going inside."

"What are you going to do?" Jason asked, blocking his way to the house.

Tim glanced at them again. He threw his hands in the air. "I'm going to take a leak Six, do you want to watch or something?!"

Jason smirked and even she had to chuckle. "No thanks, I'll trust you."

"Good." He went into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him.

She smiled at Jason. "Well at least he's still his prickly self."

"Yeah."

They waited in silence until Tim walked out again. "Change of plans," he said, holding open the door. He nodded to the driveway, where a car was pulling up to the house. "Hannibal's out early. Tyra just called."

Speak of the devil and she shall appear, Lyla thought, looking to the rented SUV, seeing Tyra, Landry and Tami get out. They opened up the back doors and while Tyra and Landry got the twins, Tami helped Stevie out. He ran up to the deck, holding a new action figure. "Look Miss Lyla," he said, showing her the Transformer. He sighed dramtically. "I know it's a Decepticon, but he's my favorite bad guy." He smiled at Tim. "I just need to get another Autobot to make it even."

Little con artist, she thought, smiling down at him. "Well he's very cool. Let's get inside, huh? It's hot out here." It was a sticky September afternoon. Soon it would grow chilly, but for now, it was still Texas summertime. She helped Stevie into the house and to what she imagined would become a dining room, but was in reality a playroom with toys that had migrated from the house. She knelt down with some other toys, looking up as the twins toddled into the room.

And her heart began to weep. It was just…it wasn't fair. She wanted to scream to the world about it. Ricky passed her a block and Nicky set one down in front of her. She clicked the two together, holding it aloft as they added to it, starting to build a wall. She stood as they assembled what they said was a castle, and left the three to their devices, going to join the other adults in the kitchen. "What did Hannibal say?" Jason asked, leaning his elbows on his knees, looking up at Tyra.

Tyra pushed her hair, a streaky reddish blonde, out of her eyes. "Um…just that…that he was done early and that he'd be by to read the will. He said that he wanted Tim and I here and…and my mom, but she's sleeping, so it'll just be us." She glanced over at her, squinting. "Or whoever decides to set up shop."

"Tyra," Tim warned, glancing at her. He shook his head, imperceptibly. "Don't."

She smirked at him. "Your girlfriend is basically living with you Tim. I'm not going to pick up the pieces when she decides to leave."

"Tyra," Landry murmured, glancing at her.

Thanks Landry, but I don't need a knight in shining armor, she thought. "Excuse me," she said, her voice soft. Keep it steady Lyla. Tami had her hand on Tyra's wrist, as though stilling her emotions. She scowled. "I'm here for Tim. I'm so sorry for what happened to you Tyra, but I am here for Tim and I am not going to leave until I am satisfied that things are okay. Now if you'll excuse me." She left the kitchen, frustrated. It wasn't fair to be angry at Tyra; she was going to through hell right now. It was just that she didn't want to have to deal with old jealousies and feuds in light of the tragedy they were currently dealing with.

A look crossed Tyra's face, like sudden realization. She closed her eyes, nodding. "Sorry…but I can't…" She looked to Tim, whispering. "This is not my job anymore, Tim. I told you."

"I know," he said, more forceful. He looked over at the door, which opened, Eric coming into the house and followed by Hannibal and Buddy. He glanced at her, his voice quiet. "Let's get this show on the road, huh?"

"Where do you want to do this?" Hannibal asked, lifting up the sealed manila envelope from his briefcase. He carried it to the kitchen table, gesturing to the few chairs around it. "Take a seat, any and all who might want to hear." He cleared his throat, glancing at her. "Who are you?"

"A friend," she said, her hand going to Tim's beneath the table. He turned it over and squeezed hard. You'll be fine, she thought, covering their joined hands with her free one, looking at the envelope. So that was it. Everything was in there. The entire future of the three little boys. She looked over at Tyra, who was slumped in the chair beside Hannibal. I hope that this works out, she thought, glancing at Hannibal. Let's go.

Once everyone was seated, with Eric on the other side of Tim and Jason at the head of the table, a pencil in his hand and a pad of paper in front of him. Almost like an agent of the family. Full business mode. We need that, she thought. She looked to the playroom; the boys were pretty well enamored with their toys. She hoped they stay that way. "Let's get this started," Jason announced, gesturing to Hannibal. "I think other than Angela we're all here, but Buddy can act for Angela."

"Sure," Buddy said, still rather numb to it all as well.

Tyra waved her hand. "Read it."

"Very well." Hannibal cleared his throat and pushed his finger beneath the envelope seal, lifting out a blue-backed will. "Okay, doo-doo-doo…here we are…we, Melinda Collette Riggins and William Riggins, of Dillon, Texas, do declare this to be our last will and testament and of the date of this document negate any and all other wills in existence." He looked up. "Do you want me to through this or just start with the big one?"

"The big one," Jason advised, before Tyra or Tim could say anything.

Hannibal nodded. "Very well." He flicked through to the last page, clearing his throat loudly again. Geez, just get to it, Lyla thought, scowling at him. "In the event that neither of us are of sound mind, body, or are deceased prior to our three minor children and any future children of the date of this will, attaining the age of eighteen, we appoint as guardian of the person and property of our minor children to…" he trailed off, frowning. He flicked the paper, looking closer. "Huh."

"What?" they all snapped, even Tami seemed frustrated.

He shook his head. "No, nothing, I forgot they did this. It was awhile ago. Um…we appoint as guardian…" he looked up, staring straight at Tyra for a moment and then Tim. "Tyra Collette."

Tyra gasped, covering her mouth. She dug her teeth into her knuckles, looking at the table. Oh wow, Lyla thought, glancing at Tim for a reaction. She really thought Angela would be the guardian. Tim frowned a little, but said nothing. He probably was relieved and didn't want to show it. She was about to tell him that it was fine, when Hannibal continued. "And Tim Riggins."

What? She glanced at Hannibal, opening her mouth, but Tim was already speaking for himself. "What?" he demanded, his hand hitting the table. He gestured to the will, his eyes widening. "Both of us? How the hell are we both going to watch three kids?"

Tyra blinked, like it just hit her that she had three kids for whom she was now guardian. She wiped at her eyes, Tami's hand on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "We're parents of them now?"

Hannibal continued reading. "They shall have custody of our minor children, and shall service without bond. If neither of them do not qualify or for any reason cease to serve as guardian, we appoint as successor guardian Becky Sproles-Cafferty." He looked around the table. "Where is Becky?"

That was a good question, she thought, glancing at Tim, who had his eyes shut. "She's in Germany," he mumbled, looking at Tami, who frowned briefly. "Luke's transferred there. They live there now…she's got a baby. She can't do it."

How was this supposed to work, she wondered, feeling her hand going numb as Tim clutched it tighter and tighter. She sensed that Tami was feeling the same as Tyra clutched her. She looked over at Hannibal, her voice quiet. "Forgive me…um…is there anything about how…how this is going to work? There are three boys and…and Tyra doesn't live in Texas."

"I don't live here," Tyra echoed, her eyes dull. She looked at the will, her voice quiet. "Can I see that?"

Hannibal kept reading. "We request that all our savings, life and otherwise, go to paying for our funerals and all funeral expenses. Any remaining funds, as well as the funds from any sale of real estate in our name which we bequeathed to Tyra Collette and Tim Riggins, should go into a college savings fund for our three minor children or any other children we have at the time of this will's execution." He kept reading. "We ultimately have chosen the two best guardians we can think of to raise our children and simply request that they take the job seriously and love them as much as we do. We know this is not an easy undertaking but believe that between the two chosen guardians, they will make it work and succeed when we cannot be there." He set the will down, holding his hands out. "Seems simple enough. They want you both to be guardians. It's now up to you to figure it out."

Tim and Tyra both stared at each other across the table. Well this shouldn't be difficult at all, Lyla thought, letting go of Tim's hand and leaning back in her chair as the exes and in-laws continued to glare at each other across the table. She met Tami's gaze. Tami leaned back in her seat, muttering. "Let it all begin."


	7. You'll Make It Work

_**7. ...You'll Make It Work**_

"I cannot be their father!"

Why do you have to make this about you!? She snorted, digging her fingers into her hair. "Yeah Tim? Well I can't be their mother, join the fucking club!" She dropped her arms to her knees, leaning over them. I'm so exhausted. It had been a hell of a day since Hannibal dropped that bomb from the will. She rubbed her eyes; they itched. Mostly from all the crying she'd done. She looked up at him as he prowled the porch, back and forth, back and forth…he was fisting that stupid little charm he kept in his pocket. She rolled her eyes. "What are you holding?"

He scowled. "None of your business."

Just go while you're ahead Tyra, not like he'll answer anyway. "Why is Lyla here?" she asked.

"Get rid if your jealousy, it doesn't become you."

"Oh shut your face Tim I'm not jealous, I want to know because I don't want you hurt!"

"I thought you didn't care?" he snapped. He seemed absolutely terrified. Of course he was terrified. They were going to become parents…guardians, technically, but parents essentially, to their three nephews. I live in Chicago, I don't belong in Texas, and Tim only ever belongs in Texas. We can't move them. We're already going to be…hell she didn't know what they were doing with the house. Stevie had asked if they were moving in with Uncle Tim now that Mommy and Daddy were in Heaven. Or was Uncle Tim going to live with them? He missed his bed. They had a life in that house.

We can only do so much, she thought, glancing up at Tim. He was staring at her; now he'd stopped moving, choosing to lean against the worn porch railing. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking out over the dark land. There weren't any lights other than the dim light above them and the oven light from inside the kitchen. Lyla was upstairs with the boys, reading them stories, keeping them busy. She scrubbed her face. "Tim what are we going to do?" she murmured. She blinked, lifting her eyes to him again. "Because we're their parents now. We have to figure this out even if we can't do it. They chose Becky as a backup and we can't do that to her and…and the others are just…not acceptable." There wasn't anyone else. Angela was recovering; she couldn't deal with three babies. Neither can I, but I'm more stable than her. Barely, it felt like. She kept staring at him, her voice soft. "Tim what happened with Lyla? She's just suddenly here and…and you are all…I know the two of you are friends, but it seems different." They had a secret. Anyone could tell they were keeping something secret.

He smiled sadly, pushing away from the railing. He came to sit beside her in a matching Adirondack chair. She leaned back in hers and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she lay on her side, watching him. He turned his head sideways, his eyes closing. After a few minutes, he said words she never expected him to say. "Lyla had a miscarriage." He paused, glancing to her. "That's why I was in Tennessee."

Yeah, but…but why…she fixed on him, staring. He just looked back, his hazel eyes filled with so much pain she couldn't really see through it, until…just…then she saw it. Figured it out. Oh…oh shit. Her eyes widened. "Oh…Tim." She reached for him, paused, and then pushed forward, her hands on his forearm. She bit her lower lip. A few weeks before all of this and he…I just need to confirm…need to hear it… "Yours?" she mouthed, her brow furrowed, but her eyes wide, unsure what she wanted to hear.

He just barely nodded. "Yeah," he mouthed back, looking away. He shook his head slightly, his voice soft. "I didn't know until after. Neither really did Lyla. Ironic, huh?" What was ironic? She shook her head, slightly confused. He snorted, meeting her eyes again, whispering. "I'm a father for five minutes and then the baby's gone. Didn't even know. Then about three weeks later my sister-in-law and brother are killed in a car accident and I have three kids to take care of." He chuckled, kind of maniacal. He laughed louder. Losing his mind, she thought, her eyes wide on him. He was losing his damn mind. He snorted again. "Oh God…the world is so fucked up."

You said it brother, she thought, closing her eyes and curling deeper into herself. It was chilly now, at night, so she'd wrapped a huge UT hoodie around herself when she'd come outside. The sleeves draped over her hands and she tucked her head into the crook of her elbow, her hand draping over the back of her neck as she huddled into herself. "What are we going to do, seriously?" she murmured. Her eyes opened again. There was so much. "Where are we going to put them? To live?"

"I don't know," he whispered. He slumped deeper in the chair, his fingertips tapping on his lips. He stared out at the darkness, lifting his eyebrows. "I can't live in that house."

"Neither can I."

"So we sell it."

Her heart clenched a little. That house was Mindy's and Billy's. It had been up to Mindy to turn it to a home and she had. "We can't just sell it," she whispered. It was where the boys came home from the hospital and…and they had their rooms and stuff…she shook her head, glancing at him, tortured. "Tim that their house."

He looked at her, matter of fact. "Well they're dead." It just stabbed deeper into her. Like a hot knife. She almost choked, but he shrugged, staring off again and murmuring. "No sense letting it sit there, Tyra. Besides, they were gonna' sell."

No they weren't. They weren't going to sell, she thought, drawing her knees tighter against her. She shook her head, muttering. "I don't want to live there. I don't want to sell it."

"Billy left it to me." He did. She closed her eyes; couldn't fight that. The will had essentially left all the money to the boys or to go to caring for the boys, she got Mindy's car, and Tim got Billy's. They both got the kids, but they said that the house would go to Tim. Fine. She didn't care. She pushed herself to her feet, walking to the porch railing and leaned on it, staring out.

She closed her eyes. "I don't want kids Tim. I just don't."

"They're your nephews."

"They're our kids now," she laughed, pushing back and turning to him again. He was still sitting, sprawled in the chair. Didn't he get it? We're guardians, Tim. Means we live with them, we care for them, and we are their parents. She threw her hands in the air. "How are we supposed to raise three kids? I hate kids. I love them, but I hate kids. I don't want them and you…" She shrugged, gesturing to him and letting her hand fall. What was there to say? "Well you're you."

His eyebrows slammed together. "What's that supposed to mean?"

What's it supposed to mean? Means what it is Tim. She shrugged; do I need to spell it out? "You're Tim Riggins," she said. She had no illusions with who he was. She loved him, in spite of it, but she was not going to get saddled being the one who took his boots off at night. He wasn't as reliant on alcohol as he used to be, but she thought that was because he'd found something to do with his time other than kind of mope around. She wasn't going to become the newest Collette to marry a Riggins, she vowed, her eyes widening slightly as she spoke, her voice trembling. "I am not ending up with you."

He squinted. "Fine."

"Do not think that this is some romantic comedy Tim. The tragedy in the beginning that brings together the two people who can't stand each other? They learn to love each other as they raise the orphaned baby? That is not happening here." This is real life. This isn't a romance. She jabbed her finger into his chest. "I am not your girlfriend and we're not doing this Tim. We're going to raise those three boys because that's what Mindy and Billy wanted. I don't know how, but we're gonna' do it."

I just don't want to become my mother, she silently thought. She looked away. I just cannot become a 24-year old mother like that. I'll just…I'll just always be the cool aunt. Cool Aunt Tyra, that's what I always wanted to be anyway. She glanced back at Tim. He shook his head. "Tyra I never thought we'd be…what'd you say? A romance?" He gripped his fingers around the porch railing, his voice trembling slightly. "All I want is to get…get through this. The thing is Tyra, only one of us lives in Texas."

Only one of us lives in Texas, yes. I live in Chicago. I'm going to school. She pressed her fingers in her eyes. "Well…what if we…" she trailed off, looking at the house. It was pretty much decided. She held her hand up, her palm facing him, stilling him. "No one says we have to have this all figured out tonight Tim, but…I think we know that we're selling…" She hiccupped. "Selling the house and…and the kids will live here. We can talk…schematics later." She held her hands up again, stepping backwards. "But I am not becoming your little bandaid and you won't become mine, okay? We're in this together and we can't screw it up. We are not ending up together."

He rolled his eyes. "Tyra, I'm not broken-hearted because you and I didn't end up together. We slept together a few times the past few years. No big deal, right?"

No big deal, right, she thought. She smiled a little, her voice quiet. "I do love you. I always have. I've wanted to rip your head off most of the time, but I love you Tim." She held her arms out and he walked into them, giving her a hug. She tightened her grip, her eyes closing. There was so much. All she knew she could count on right now was that he was as clueless as her right now. "I don't want to be my mom," she whispered.

He nodded. A moment later, he spoke quietly. "I don't think you will Tyra."

I don't want kids. Now I have three. I'm 24. I'm not even done with my Master's…how was this all supposed to work? She rested her chin on his shoulder, still holding him. Her gaze went through the open windows into the house, where she could see Lyla helping the boys with their ice cream bowls. She was good with them. "Is Lyla a teacher or something?"

"Yes."

Damn. I was kidding. "Oh," she said. She didn't let go. This was getting a little awkward. "Are you with her or something?"

"No."

That was decisive. She let go of him, meeting his eyes. They were a bit more open now than they were before. Things were starting to fall into place, but they still weren't any closer to knowing what was going to happen now than they did earlier before the will reading. I have a free semester. I guess I'm just going to have to figure it all out then. That was about eight weeks. She'd barely begun classes at Chicago. She opened up the back door, going into the kitchen. "Hey boys," she said, greeting the three of them. "You have ice cream? Can I have a taste?" She coughed as three spoons immediately made their way to her lips. "Oh, my, that's a lot," she coughed, her eyes expanding. "Good. Yummy. What's that…that one taste?"

"Ricky wanted to try mango," Lyla said, spooning out the mango as Ricky grinned, shaking his head. She tweaked his nose. "He didn't care for it." She tossed the mango at Tim, who caught it in his mouth. She smiled, looking over at Tyra again. "Landry stopped by while you guys were outside. He's upstairs."

Landry was upstairs? "Why'd you send him there?"

"He had to bring you something, he said he'd bring it upstairs."

Geez. She gave the boys all a kiss. She glanced at Tim, pointing to the top of their heads. "Tell them," she hissed, nodding quickly. Tell them they're moving here.

Tim stared at her for a moment. "Where's Mrs. Taylor?"

"She can't do everything for us Tim." We have to start figuring things out on our own. Eventually…she sighed hard. Eventually, everyone would return to their lives and we'd have to get on with ours. A world where we have three boys that we somehow have to share together and raise together and a world where your brother and my sister are no longer on this world. She was planning on having lunch with Julie tomorrow. They were going to leave for Chicago the day after.

I wish I could go to Chicago. Back to my apartment. Eventually she'd have to go back there too. Clean out her stuff…move back here? She raked her hand through her hair, closing her eyes. She couldn't possibly take the boys to Chicago. She pushed away from the table, going upstairs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lyla wrap her arm around Tim, who leaned against her. What was that? She shook her head. "Forget it," she muttered, trudging up the stairs.

Better see what Landry was up to. She wasn't quite sure what that was about either. Why he'd helped her out. Friends? They weren't friends. She pushed open her door, smiling briefly at him, sitting on the edge of her bed, an envelope in his hands. "Hello," she greeted, crossing her arms. She arched an eyebrow. "You wanted something?"

Landry nodded, holding up the envelope. He looked unsure. Well spit it out man, she thought, sitting on the bed beside him. He glanced at her and then she saw his knuckles whiten as he clutched the envelope tighter. "I…I wanted you to have this. My dad…" He took a deep breath. "He was one of the deputies on scene and…and he was in the ambulance with Mindy."

Oh God. She covered her mouth with her hand, her arm wrapping around her side. "And?" she breathed. What was in that envelope? She began to panic, her breathing coming a lot shallower.

He cocked his head, smiling a little. "I know we're not friends, but sometimes out of tragedy you just…you put aside those things and when my dad told me what happened…Tyra I had to be here. I know you might not want me here, but I don't care. I really liked your sister and your mom and I loved you. We don't need to get into the history and stuff, but I thought I'd give this to you when I thought you were ready and then…" he blew out another breath, chuckling. He pushed it towards her. "You're never going to be ready."

What the hell was it? She reached into the envelope, slowly pulling out a small piece of notebook paper, torn from one of those small memo pads that police officers kept in their breast pockets. "What is this?" she whispered, seeing shaky handwriting on it.

"Read it. I'll be here."

She glanced at the paper, reading it a few times. Oh my God. She covered her mouth with her hand again, tears pricking her eyes. Oh my God. She dropped the paper to her knees, both hands going to her face. "He wrote them down?" she sobbed. I've cried more in a month than I ever have in my life. It's been almost a month; I can't believe it. She turned to him, her hand slipping into his. She leaned against him, closing her eyes. She hiccupped. Mindy's last words, he wrote them down for her. "Tell the boys I love them," she said out loud, a soft recitation. These words would be forever burned in her memory. "Tell Billy. Tell Tyra. It'll be fine."

Landry squeezed her hand, turning his cheek to rest against her head. "My dad said he's been to a lot of accidents. People know, Tyra. She even said it herself. It'll be fine."

It'll be fine, she thought, turning to face him. He smiled again, slightly awkward now. They were really close. She leaned into him, but he pulled back, closing his eyes. "Landry," she murmured. She focused on him for a brief moment. This wasn't Tim. What are you doing Collette? She closed her eyes, pulling back. Oh my God. How embarrassing! Again! "I'm sorry," she cried, jumping to her feet, her hands going over her face. She shook her head quickly, crying. "I'm just…I just…" I just want someone. I want to lose my mind for a moment, just one stupid moment. She waved her hand, crying. "I wanted…I did this the other night and…and I'm sorry Landry."

He shook his head, his voice soft. "Tyra, you're hurting. It's understandable."

She wiped at her eyes. I really just want someone, she thought. She looked over at him again. There was something very different about him now. Worldly. Mature. He wore a dark blue cardigan over a t-shirt with the world 'hi' on it. Hipster. He had glasses. Converse shoes with jeans that were tapered around the ankle. He looked like an English teacher. "What are you doing now?" she asked, sitting back down on the bed, still looking at him. "I didn't ask at the funeral."

He walked over to sit in a low armchair in the corner. It had suddenly appeared there the other day. Someone must have dragged it in from somewhere to watch her while she slept. Make sure she didn't choke on her tongue or something, she didn't know why they'd done that. "Well I've got the band," he said. He rested his head against one of the wings of the chair. He smiled again. "I'm a physics substitute at the high school when we don't have a gig with the band. I finished my degree online the other month."

"Congrats."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to do something that I don't want to do. It's simple as that."

She stretched back against the wall behind the head of the bed. This thing needed a headboard. Or baseboard. Not just two mattresses on a frame. She folded her arms over her chest, resting in her lap. "Dillon High?"

"Yeah."

"You're back in high school."

"Literally."

A ghost of a smile appeared around her lips. She glanced at the clock, looking away. It wasn't that late yet. "You want to stay for ice cream and a movie?" she asked. She assumed that's what they were doing downstairs. She shrugged. "As a thank you and…and an I'm sorry of sorts?"

"Don't be sorry," Landry said, getting out of the chair. He rested his hand on the small of her back as they left the room. He shrugged, going down the stairs first. "If you need anything, Tyra. Seriously. I'm here. For the time being I'm living above Buddy's Bar."

"Oh my God."

"Bartend there sometimes when Riggins doesn't feel like working."

She hopped off the bottom step, walking into the kitchen. She got a small bowl of ice cream for herself, Landry fixed his, and they went into the living room, where the three boys were lined up like little sausages on the floor, encased in blankets, empty bowls in front of them, and their attention intent on the television screen, which was playing The Lion King, their favorite. She sat down on the couch next to Tim; Lyla was sitting on the other side of him, both of them immediately letting go of each others hands. She rolled her eyes. Don't bother hiding it. She glanced at Landry, who was sitting in a chair. "Landry's going to stand for awhile," she said.

Tim grunted a response while Lyla smiled politely at Landry. "That's very nice of you to stay." She tapped Tim's knee. "I'm going to bed."

He instantly looked up, letting his fingers drift over hers. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just tired. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Night boys."

"Night Miss Lyla!" all three chirped.

Tyra leaned a little closer to Tim, her knees drawn to her chest. "This is not going to become a habit," she said through a mouth of ice cream.

He rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't dare think you'd let it."

"I'm not the mothering kind," she murmured, keeping her voice down. She looked over at Landry, smiling again. It was really nice that he was still here. She sighed, returning her attention to her ice cream. Tomorrow was another day. She'd just start figuring it all then. Mindy's last words, written by Mr. Clarke on that piece of paper upstairs in her room echoed in her mind. It'll be okay. If that's what her sister thought in her last moment, then damnit, Tyra thought, sighing hard, her shoulders stiffening with resolve. Then she'd make it okay.


	8. We'll See Means No

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews. I promise after this chapter it starts picking up a bit and more 'questions' get answered. It then starts alternating almost exclusively between Tim POV and Tyra POV.

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_**8. ...We'll See Means No**_

"Uncle Tim?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"What are we doing?"

He looked up from the dirt, chuckling at Stevie, who was sitting in the mulch, tossing his trowel up and down in the grass. There was a pile of dirt around the hole he'd dug, but the plants that he'd wanted put it were still sitting to the side. "We're putting mulch down."

"We have a garden?"

Garden was a girl word. It's a man yard. "No garden," he said. Well, sort of. There were some tomato plants that Stevie had insisted on buying, but now didn't want to put in the dirt. He brushed the wrist of his work gloves over his forehead, swiping away his hair, which was falling out of the short ponytail he'd tugged it back into to keep out of his face while he worked. He reached into the bag of mulch, throwing it down onto the stretch of 'garden' around the porch. "It's a man yard," he said.

"Man yard?"

"We are men. Here." He passed him a clump of mulch. "Set it down."

"Cool," Stevie said, dropping the mulch. He turned back to his little plant. "How do I do this?"

He leaned around Stevie, guiding his hands into the dirt, packing it around the little tomato plant. He instructed Stevie to put the marker in so they knew what plant it was and he stood up, glancing over at the wheelbarrow he'd pulled out. He'd tossed in a bunch of stuff, unsure what would keep Stevie busy while he had to work. He had to get so much stuff done, but he really didn't need a four-year old tagging along after him. He pulled out a thin stretch of wire, walking away from Stevie to the barn he'd built with scraps from after he'd finished the house, and rummaged for some twist-ties or twine. He returned to Stevie, holding up what he'd found. "This will keep it from falling down," he said, tying the wire around the plant.

"Cool," Stevie said, inspecting his tomato plant. He cocked his head, peering up shrewdly. "How come it don't got no tomatoes on it?"

"Doesn't have," he idly corrected. He ruffled Stevie's mop of blond hair. Kid could use a haircut. "Because it's a baby plant. It'll grow." He ruffled his hair again. "Kind' like you kid."

"I hope it hurries."

"It will." He pulled at Stevie's hair, laughing. "You look like a girl. Need to get this cut."

"Oh yeah?" Stevie turned around, wrapping his arms around his knees, giggling up at him. "You have a ponytail! Like a girl! Like Mommy!" His face fell a little, along with Tim's. It had been a couple of days since he'd mentioned Billy or Mindy. His eyes seemed to quaver, shining a bit, but he just rested his cheek against Tim's knees, still holding tight. "I miss Mommy."

Damn. He knelt, lifting Stevie up and wrapped his arms around him. Stevie immediately clung to him, burying his face into his neck. He rubbed is back, carrying him up onto the back porch. "I know you do," he said softly. He set him down on the glider, hanging from the corner of the porch, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Stevie cuddled close, still hugging him. He began to rock slightly. What else was he supposed to do?

Stevie sniffed. "Do we live here?"

They'd officially moved the last toy from the old house into his house earlier that week. Life was returning as close to normal as it could get. Everyone had gone back to where they'd come from. He had to admit, he missed Mrs. Taylor and Coach hanging around. Julie and Matt had to get back to their hectic lives and it had almost killed him when Jason left. He hadn't realized how much he needed his best friend. Six said he'd be back in a few weeks, he had a meeting in Dallas and would stop by for the weekend. He was more than looking forward to it.

The only ones remaining were Tyra, naturally, who had left for a couple of days with Matt and Julie just to settle effects at her apartment and put things in storage before coming back. She had a massive chip on her shoulder. He'd steered clear of her for a bit now. Then there was Garrity.

Ugh, Garrity. The hell was she still hanging around for? He didn't mind it, but it was getting confusing. For both of them. He rested his head on Stevie's. "Yeah kid," he answered, nodding. The house had been put on the market the other day. It had been devastating. He didn't want to say goodbye to it, but…they were planning on moving anyway. It was too small for three growing boys. It was barely big enough for him and Billy, that's why he moved his room into the converted garage. He sighed. "You live here now."

"Oh." Stevie was quiet, kicking his feet back and forth. "I have a big room."

"You have a big room." He'd redone one of the rooms he'd planned upstairs into Stevie's. It still needed a lot of work. Lyla had gone out and really pulled through on that, decorating the rooms and putting on silly things he'd forgotten like outlet and light switch covers. She'd even gotten a ceiling fan installed that looked like a plane.

Stevie kicked his feet a bit harder. "Uncle Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you married?"

His eyebrows flew up to his hairline. Married? Where would he get such a ridiculous idea? "Um…no…." He frowned. "Why?" The problem was going to be…he'd kind of wondered it briefly. Wondered if Tyra had thought about it. They were in separate rooms, they had no intention of ever getting back together, although it would make things a lot easier, but he knew where she stood on that, and he just…he wasn't sure what was going on with Lyla. He swallowed nervously. Felt like he was getting tested. "Why do you think I'm married?"

"Miss Lyla sleeps in your bed. But Aunt Tyra lives here." He frowned again. "Did you marry both?"

He burst out laughing, lifting Stevie back up and swinging him around. "Oh kid. I'm not married." He set him down, but still held his hands. Stevie was genuinely curious. He blew out a hard breath, looking up at the porch ceiling. "Aunt Tyra lives here…but we're not married."

"But Daddy said that you guys…"

"Daddy was wrong," Tim said immediately. His heart clenched a bit at talking about Billy. He'd give anything to have his brother standing beside him berating him for randomly hooking up with Tyra. It was funny. All those things that had irritated him, especially in the last couple of years where his temper had gotten considerably shorter with Billy, he'd do anything to get them back right now. He missed them more than the other things sometimes.

It had been two months, he thought idly, his eyes closing briefly. How was that possible? He opened his eyes as the back door opened. Stevie turned his head, smiling at Lyla. "Miss Lyla," he greeted her. He immediately frowned, pointing at Tim. No, don't ask it, don't ask it, he begged silently, shaking his head quickly at Lyla. Who was just looking at them like they were insane. "Miss Lyla are you and Uncle Tim boyfriend girlfriend?"

Lyla's dark eyebrows lifted very slightly, along with the corner of her lip. She chuckled, reaching for him. "Stevie, why do you think that?"

"Because I wanted to sleep in Uncle Tim's bed but you were in it."

That was the other night. Weak moment, he thought, lifting his eyebrows at Lyla. He smirked at her. This might work to his advantage. "Yeah Lyla," he drawled, his eyes widening slightly, dramatic. "What do you think about that logic?"

She squinted at him, but said nothing. Her lips twitched slightly as she thought it out. She looked down at Stevie again. "Uncle Tim and I are boyfriend and girlfriend," she said. WHAT!? His eyes widened. The hell?

"You are?"

"We are?" he demanded.

"We are." Lyla gestured to the house. "Your hands are filthy Stevie, go wash them and maybe I'll cut your hair for you, would you like that?"

"No." Stevie went into the house, not explaining what he objected to. He closed the door behind him and a few seconds later, they heard him singing to himself as he washed his hands at the kitchen sink, which they could see through the back window beside them.

He looked at Lyla, stepping towards her. "Boyfriend girlfriend?"

"I just said it because I didn't want to explain to a four year old that sometimes you and I hook up when we're sad," Lyla said, her arms going back to crossing over her chest. She looked away, turning her head farther from him when he went to put his arms around her, dragging her closer to him so their hips bumped each other. "Don't," she warned.

Why not? He rested his temple against her forehead. "Why can't we be together?" he murmured. He wanted something. Someone. It would make this whole…raising three boys things a lot easier. "Please Garrity."

"No," she said, kissing him lightly. Your actions don't really match up to your words, he thought, kissing her again. She broke it a moment later, her arm around his neck. "Tim I have to go back to Vanderbilt," she gasped, as he pulled her even closer to him, lifting her toes off the porch, dusting them against the top of his boots. She pulled away, framing his face with her hands. She was so intense about this, he thought, his hand disappearing into her hair, keeping her against him. She was more earnest, her eyes widening slightly with her resolve. "I have to."

"For your degree," he said. Master's of something. Leave it to Garrity to collect meaningless pieces of paper. He touched his forehead to hers. His heartbeat quickened. It had been easier with her here. When Tyra was gone, he had someone else to help him with the boys. Now what was he supposed to do? "I don't know what I'm doing," he said.

She cocked her head, smiling. "Yes you do."

"I don't."

"You and Tyra are great as an aunt and an uncle. Just think of it as that, but with a little bit more discipline," she murmured. She kissed him again. Her face softened, her dark eyes going sad as she stroked his cheek. "You would have been a good dad. Maybe not at first, but…with time. It'll be the same now."

That made his heart hurt more. The idea of a kid with her. Even on accident. "Maybe we should have one for real," he whispered.

He didn't expect her to instantly agree. Or even agree. She smiled, humoring him. "And where will we live with our planned kid? With your three nephews, all of whom are under the age of five and your sister-in-law who is also their guardian? Tim…this isn't Full House." She touched his cheek again, whispering. "If I'd still had the baby and this happened…I wouldn't be here. We would have figured it out, but Tim it was never going to end up with us at the altar."

That was the sad reality. He knew it as much as her. "I love you," he said. Maybe more forcefully than he wanted it to come across.

"I love you too," she replied. She cocked her head, shrugging. "But right now Tim…we're just going to be like we've always been." She grew sad again, her voice softening. "Two people who love each other but who can't be together…the timing is never right."

"It was right in high school," he said, almost plaintative.

"When we were eighteen," she whispered. She smirked. "We're not eighteen anymore and our priorities are different. Mine is to graduate with my Master's and yours is to raise your nephews." She shrugged, breathing again. "Tim a baby was never going to work into that scenario as hard as we tried to make it work. Maybe this was a blessing. God works in mysterious ways." Don't talk to me about God. He gave her a look and she nodded, understanding. "I know. Now isn't the time to talk about plans and God and everything." She bit her lower lip, tears flooding her vision. "Our baby is somewhere Tim. Biding time. Maybe one day we'll get to see him or her. Maybe not. It all works in a strange way. Right now? You and Tyra are the focus. You need to stay on that."

"I'm not with her," he whispered. He didn't know why he had to clarify that.

"I know, but I'm not an idiot, Tim. You and her…" She shrugged. Her voice grew cooler. "If that's the way it's going to go, then that's the way it's going to go. Don't push it, but don't push it away either." She hopped off his feet, squeezing his hands tightly. She sighed, ending the conversation. "I need to go back to Tennessee. You and I are always going to be connected, I don't know why I tried to sever it in the past." She smiled, whispering. "You're my best friend and if our paths cross one day when the timing is right, then we take that path. For now Tim? If you need me, I'm only a phone call away, but you have to do this on your own. I can't be here."

I know that. I'm not an idiot. His heartbeat quickened. He closed his eyes. I can't possibly do this on my own. Or with Tyra. She hates kids. Only likes the boys and even then she's mad at the universe for derailing her plans to escape Dillon. He can't deal with her in that mood. He smiled, but it wavered slightly. "I'm not asking you stay," he said, slightly defensive. That's how she was acting. He let go of her. "I'm not, Lyla."

She chuckled. "Oh Tim, I know. You haven't asked me to stay in the last five years," she said, smiling again. She reached for him once more, kissing gently. "I love you," she murmured. She shrugged, tears trickling down her cheeks. "And I am so proud of you…you're going to be okay, Tim. I've known you my whole life and I know that you're going to be okay."

He clutched her tighter. It was more real now. "I'm gonna' miss you Garrity," he said.

"I'll miss you too," she said, squeezing his hands. She looked down at their feet and back up again, smiling soft once again. She shrugged, whispering. "I'm no longer going to fight this Tim. I'm a firm believer in…well some people can call it fate, but I just call it the universe." She smiled again, whispering. "We're not ready to be parents together Tim. Maybe that's why I lost the baby. Maybe I got pregnant so you could get used to the idea of being a father, I don't know. I don't know Tim, but all I do know is that you are going to be fine. You're not the same person that you used to be." She was resolved. "You will be fine."

I don't know Garrity. You always had more faith in me than me. He brushed her hair from her face. "What about Tyra?"

"What about Tyra?"

"What if we…you know."

"I just told you," she said, her back stiffening slightly. She shrugged, her voice cool. "Tim we're not together. Don't act like we are. Not that way." She cocked her head. "Besides…Tyra's going to have her hands full. Give her a bit of a break."

"I'm not cutting her slack. She's in this just like me."

"Yeah, but she's been living a different life for four years," Lyla said. She arched an eyebrow. "She has to make some serious decisions. Besides, not everyone wants to come back to live in Dillon and here she is, not by choice, but by tragedy. You need to give her a break."

Fine. I'll give her a break. I know she hates it here, I know she doesn't want to be here, but she's in this just like me. She doesn't get a lot of them. She's had her time to complain and mope, he thought. No one let him get away with it for very long, especially her. So he wasn't going to let her do it forever either. "Should probably check on Stevie." He'd been in there for a long time.

"I can see him through the door, he's watching TV."

"Mindy only let them watch a couple hours of TV a day."

Lyla smiled, her eyes crinkling. "Well maybe that's something you and Tyra should talk about."

His eyes widened. "Talk about it?" He leaned into the house. "Steven Hannibal Riggins! Turn that damn thing off and come outside!"

"No!"

He looked at Lyla, gesturing. "He just said no."

"Well go tell him what's what."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Lyla smiled again, her eyes sparkling and her voice teasing. "Well that's something you're going to have to figure out, now isn't it Tim? Good luck." She patted his shoulder, walking down the hallway to the stairs.

He gaped at Stevie, who was smiling at him from sitting on the floor in front of the TV. "No TV," he said, walking to the TV and flicked the remote at it, turning the flatscreen black. He turned to stand in front of it, staring down at the little boy. "Come on, let's go outside."

"I don't wanna'."

"You have to come outside. We'll paint furniture." He had a dining room table and chairs that he'd picked up at an auction. Slowly but surely his house was coming together. He just needed to stain them. "You can wear a mask and paint them with me."

That seemed to get Stevie up. He trudged outside. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

He shrugged. "I guess. Why?"

"Monsters in mine."

"Monsters, huh? Well why don't you tell them to get out and leave you alone."

Stevie looked at him. "I can do that?"

"You can do whatever you want." He picked up two masks, setting one over Stevie's nose and mouth and then adjusted His. He tugged on a pair of rubber gloves and gave Stevie a pair as well. With two paint brushes and the staining can, he set about putting the first coat on the table while Stevie worked on a chair. He glanced at his nephew, who had lost interest after about five minutes with staining and was wandering over near the toolbox. "Careful," he called.

"Do you have horses Uncle Tim? You have a barn."

"No horses."

"I want one."

There was a ranch nearby that was in the process of shutting down. They were selling off their horses. Tim made a mental note to check it out and see if they had any ponies. It couldn't be too difficult to keep a horse around. Or a pony, whatever. He cleared his throat. "We'll see."

"Daddy says we'll see." Stevie looked forlorn. "Means 'no.'"

He chuckled. Billy did say that a lot and it almost always meant 'no.' He continued staining the table, while Stevie investigated. After a bit, he finished one coat of stain on the table and figured he'd do the chairs later. He stood up and looked over at the opening. Stevie was asleep beside a stack of hay, which he'd laid down in a few spots so the grass could go through. He had his hands pillowed beneath his head, a small smile on his face. He looked very peaceful. Tim smiled, walking over and knelt at his side. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone, snapping a picture. He looked at it. He didn't like taking pictures. Always thought it was pretty silly, but…Mindy took pictures a lot. Almost always. She said that it was so she could remember when they weren't little anymore.

"Don't grow up," he whispered to Stevie, leaning in and lifted him carefully up, still sleeping, and proceeded to carry him to the house.


	9. One Night Won't Cut It

_**9. ...One Night Won't Cut It**_

"Tyra, maybe you should slow down."

"Can't slow down, you slow down and you die," she said, throwing another shot back, not even feeling this one burn her throat like the first couple. She found the irony in a statement like that, given that if Billy had eased off the accelerator just a bit, they would have missed the intersection that the drunk driver decided to crash through. If they'd slowed down, they might still be alive.

For now though, if she slowed down with the tequila, she thought she might die. This was her last night. Her final night before she returned to Texas as the official guardian of Steven, Ricardo, and Nicholas Riggins. Ricardo, she thought, rolling her eyes at the idiocy of Billy Riggins. He thought it was better than 'Richard' and they wanted all the kids to have nicknames that ended in 'ie' or 'y.' So they sounded alike.

Julie seemed concerned, reaching to stop her from taking the fifth shot of the last 45 minutes. "Tyra, slow down," she warned.

She squinted at Julie, whose face was alight with concern and fear, the multicolored lights of the club on Michigan Avenue crossing over it, sending beams of pink, blue, yellow, and green off to the pile of glasses on their small table. Julie. Julie Taylor. Perfect Julie Taylor with the parents who loved her and the little sister and the boy she'd had since high school. Who loved her, cared for her, and would give up his life for her. Who had no problems, Tyra thought with a sneer. "Shut up," she warned, pushing back her chair. She pointed at Julie, rage coursing through her. "I don't need your pity or your concern Julie!" She turned, but Julie grabbed her hand, jerking her back. "Let go!" she shouted, ignoring the looks she was receiving from people. She glared a girl who was giving her a disgusted look. "What?" she shouted at her, holding her hands out. "What are you looking at? Can't someone drink a bit before they have to go live in hell for the next 18 years?!"

Another arm grabbed at her, but she couldn't fight off this grip. She looked sideways. It was Landry and Matt. "Let go of me," she cried plaintatively. "Please." She couldn't fight them. She shook them off once they loosened their grip, stumbling slightly. She turned away, walking off through the club.

Her head hurt, she felt sick to her stomach, but she at least felt something other than misery. Well, emotional misery. Physical misery she was fine with feeling. She pushed her hand through her hair, tripping out of the side door and into an alley. She blinked a few times, looking towards the lights and walked towards them, where she went right into Landry. "Forgot something?" he asked, holding up her clutch.

"What are you doing with that?" She snatched it out of his hands, tottering on her high heels down the street. She fought with the keys to her car, which she'd be driving down to Texas tomorrow morning. Landry took them from her when she dropped them, too drunk to bother to lean over and get them. "Those are mine."

Landry shook his head, chuckling. "I'm going to keep them." He shoved the keys into the pocket of his old Army jacket. He narrowed his eyes at her sneer. "Your sister was killed by a drunk driver, Tyra. I'm not letting you get behind that wheel. You should know better."

I do know better, she thought, tears prickling her eyes. She leaned against a building, looking down the street towards the club. She glanced at him, her voice quiet. "I don't know what I was doing. I just wanted to be free for a few minutes…I'm going to hell tomorrow."

"It's not hell."

"It's my hell," she sobbed. I'm pathetic. I'm falling apart. I'm a mess. Like it even needed to be said, but she said it anyway. "I'm a mess."

He reached for her, taking her carefully by the arm and leading her to her car, helping her into the passenger side. In silence, punctuated only a bit by her light sobs, he drove her to the hotel where she knew he was staying. All her stuff was at Matt and Julie's, in a U-Haul parked outside of their apartment building. What couldn't fit in that was in her car, which she'd hook up to the trailer and drag behind the U-Haul. It wasn't like she had much of a life here; she had only been here for about three months, but they were the best three months of her life. "You don't need to go back to their apartment right now," he said, breaking the silence. He cleared his throat. "I'm here because Matt asked me to be here with you, so…that's why I'm in Chicago."

That's nice of you to listen to Matt. "I don't need you," she said.

"You did tonight, before you made a stupid decision. I'm your version of a conscience for the night," he said, pulling up to the hotel and into the parking garage. It was along the Magnificent Mile. He parked, glancing at her. "Get out. Also, maybe put on a coat, I don't want them to think I'm Richard Gere and you're Julia Roberts if you know what I'm saying."

She rolled her eyes, glancing at the thin sparkling camisole she was wearing. "Whatever." She tugged on a sweater from her backseat, trudging after him, still drunk. With the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, she'd be drunk for awhile yet.

They went to his room and he sat her down on the edge of the bed, leaving the room. A few minutes later he returned with a few bottles of water. "I called room service for coffee," he said. He went into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He jerked his thumb to it. "Go. Sober up."

This didn't make any sense. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

"Because I don't want you to make a mistake. I care about you."

"I was so mean to you. I was always so mean."

Landry shook his head, holding his hands out in defense. "I'm not going to talk about our past right now. You're hurting, you're drunk, and you were about to say some pretty nasty things to your best friend who doesn't deserve them, even if she's lived a charmed life most of the time. Go shower, I'll get the coffee, and then we can talk if you're up to it."

I don't want to talk. I just want to go back to class. Was this her punishment, she wondered, for all those years of defying people? Of failing out, skipping class, sleeping around, and generally misspending her youth? She recovered, she got out, she graduated magna cum laude from the University of Texas, one of the best colleges in the country, and she got into one of the best Master's programs in one of the best colleges in the country. She moved to Chicago, she was enjoying her life. As much as she loved Austin, because it wasn't like the rest of Texas, it was still in the same state.

My life in Chicago was fun, she thought, stepping beneath the water. It shocked her. She yelped, hearing Landry's 'sorry' from behind the shower curtain and the closed bathroom door. She knocked the dial a bit, warming the freezing water. "Damn," she mumbled, scrubbing at her face, her eyes widening at the cool water. She closed them again, letting everything just wash over her.

Was this my punishment, she thought again. I lose my life because my sister lost hers? I don't understand. I've done good these last five years. I've been a good person. I…I volunteer at DCFS. I did internships with group homes. I worked in a prison, she felt like screaming. In the meantime, it was like the great Wheel of Fate just kept turning and now here she was, having to leave all that behind and return to Dillon, Texas, to live out the future she'd worked so hard to avoid. Living with a Riggins, raising Riggins children…

The good side of it, if there was a good side, was that Mindy and Billy had raised the kids well so far. They were resilient. Tami warned her of the signs to look for in Stevie. Bedwetting, nightmares, ignoring authority, and irrational fears. "Irrational," Tim had wondered, when Tami was telling them.

"Not letting you leave the house or not wanting to get in a car," she'd explained. Tyra knew them too. She majored in Psychology, after all.

The twins were too little to know any better. They'd moved on already, a month or so after the fact. Once they got used to not seeing Mindy or Billy, they were fine. Fine might not be the best word, but they didn't cry. They didn't ask for Mommy and Daddy. Tyra was waiting for the other shoe to drop with Stevie. For him to completely lose his shit one day. "I'm waiting until I lose my shit," she said out loud, hearing the words bounce off the tiled walls.

I might already have. She scrubbed her face again, climbing out and taking a fluffy towel from the hook behind the door, wrapping herself in it. She glanced at her clothes, leaving them on the floor and walked into the room, where Landry was setting a bag that had been in her car. "Those are my clothes," she said, pointing. She was still drunk.

"I know, I went downstairs to get them. Didn't think you'd want to dress back in your party outfit." He went into the bathroom, returning with her clothes. "What were you planning with this outfit?"

To be honest? She was hoping for one last lay. Before she would become a celibate nun, raising the orphaned children. "I know I'm being a brat," she mumbled, tugging out some clothes from the bag. She sighed. "I know that I'm just…moping and crying and being a total selfish moron, but I get to be selfish, you know? I've held it together this past month…I helped sell the house and…and I moved them out of it. I've been with the kids and planning the funerals and…and Tim has been just wandering around with Lyla Garrity taking care of him like some sick version of Oedipus."

"Tim's in love with his mother?" Landry said, chuckling.

"Mother figure, whatever."

He pointed to the clothes she'd pulled out. "Get dressed. I'll be back." He disappeared out the hotel room door, closing it quietly behind him. Mr. Mysterious, she thought sarcastically, changing into a pair of sweatpants that were cut off at the knees and a tank top. She curled up on the king-sized bed, looking at the room service cart beside her. Out of curiosity, she picked up one of the lids, looking at the brownie with melted ice cream swimming around it. I am going to pay for this, she thought, plucking the spoon and the plate, diving in.

Several minutes later, Landry was back, this time with an extra toothbrush. He lifted it up. "Thought you might use this once the alcohol in your stomach finds its way out."

"Yeah, that's not going to be fun," she said through mouthful of brownie. She was ravenous. She hadn't been eating since she got the news. Two months, was it now? She shook her head, looking at him and pointed the spoon to the brownie. "Good call on this."

"I thought you might enjoy it." He sat on the edge of the bed, shrugging. Very professorial, she thought, with the wire-framed glasses he was wearing. "You want to talk?"

She shook her head, clearing her throat. Not particularly. She set the spoon in the bowl with the half-eaten brownie, glancing up at him. Her wet hair corded around her neck, dripping onto her shirt, but she didn't care. "I just wanted to have some more fun," she mumbled, pushing the spoon into the ice cream. She sighed. "Before I'm spending my twenties changing diapers and going to playdates."

Landry shook his head, quiet. "Mindy wouldn't have made you the guardian if that's what she expected."

"Mindy and Billy didn't expect to die. Hell, Landry, I don't even know why they had a will, I mean it's not like they were the most reliable people in the world," she said. It was something that had kind of weighed on her. Why a will? Old people had those. Saying you could pull the plug and stuff.

He moved a bit closer on the bed, kicking off his Converse shoes and sitting cross-legged. He cocked his head, his voice soft. "I kind of thought that myself…I asked Hannibal after you and Tim left…after he read the will. I mean…it was Billy and Mindy, you know?" He waited a moment, clearing his throat. "Hannibal told me that after Tim went to jail, Mindy started getting nervous…she…she'd just had a baby and she was just scared about what Billy might do so she talked about it with Hannibal, but they held off. After the twins, Hannibal said that she got nervous again. Billy had a bit of a health scare."

The pneumonia, she thought, remembering that. Billy, being his asshole self, was drunk and went swimming in the lake after a particularly good game in the semifinals. He'd caught a cold, hadn't taken care of himself, and it developed into pneumonia that hadn't gone away for a couple of months. He was in the hospital for a couple of days at some point. "She had a will made because Billy was an asshole?"

"I think it was just enough on her mind that she started wondering about what would happen to the boys if one or both of them were gone," Landry said, quiet. He shrugged. "Parents do it sometimes. They think about mortality. In any case, Mindy's planning ahead did this. I mean…I'm willing to bet my life that you and Tim are co-guardians because Mindy wouldn't agree to just Tim and Billy wouldn't agree to just you."

She snorted. "They should have just said Angela."

"And you and Tim would be fighting in the court system right now to get custody if your mother was their guardian right now."

"I doubt that," she mumbled. She pushed at the brownie again, looking up. "I have no desire to live in Texas and I'm living with Riggins on his homestead, Landry. I get to be selfish about that. I love those little boys more than anything, but for one night I just wanted to have fun, because I'm not going to be able to do that. I…I have to learn how to do this and I know that and I just wanted one night with no responsibilities, but then you and Julie come along and make me feel bad about it."

"You were making yourself feel bad about it."

Maybe she was. She wiped at her eyes, sniffing back more tears. "I just want my old life back Landry. I get to mourn that for one night. I'm owed at least one night, because I don't know if you know this, but I've handled everything. I get one night."

He nodded. "Okay. So long as you know that."

She wiped at her eyes again, setting the bowl of melting brownie and ice cream aside. She leaned forward, twisting her rings around on her knuckles. I'll probably go to hell for this, but oh well. "I feel bad for Tim, but…" she looked over at Landry, sighing. "He's been extra upset lately."

"Lyla problems?"

"In a manner of speaking." She waited, rolling her eyes. "The world is screwed up Landry. Tim and Lyla lost a baby together. Then he's got three kids and…he's a kid himself. I can't take care of him too. That's what it feels like."

Landry waited a moment. He shrugged his shoulder, speaking softly. "I don't know if you know this, since you've been gone but…since I got back to Dillon, Tim's actually been pretty supportive." He paused. "He lets me take his shifts at the bar for extra cash, convinced Buddy to let me live above the bar, and he fixed my car so I didn't have to buy a new one."

What did you have to give him in return? Tim Riggins doesn't do anything for free unless your name is Lyla Garrity, Jason Street, or Becky Sproles. Everything had strings, she thought. She glanced up. "What'd he want?"

After a moment, Landry chuckled. "He wanted to learn to play guitar. And drums."

What? "Why? He suddenly have a secret desire to go into the music industry?"

"He wanted to teach Stevie."

Oh. Well…now she felt kind of silly. "He wanted to teach Stevie guitar?" She shrugged. "Why didn't he just pay for lessons?"

"I think he wanted someone to look up to him, but I'd never say that to his face. I like how it's symmetrical," Landry said, laughing at her eyebrow lift. He shrugged. "In any case Tyra, he's doing well for himself and I think the two of you will make great guardians. For what it's worth. You get to be upset tonight and I'm not judging you for that, but the only reason I stopped you was because you were about to push Julie over a cliff and she doesn't deserve that."

I'll apologize to her in the morning, when I go back to their house to say goodbye. It just seemed like life was so easy for her. She wiped at the tears that began trickling down her cheek. "I just wish my biggest concern was whether or not my husband loved me enough," she cried. That's what it seemed like for Julie.

"You can't compare your problems to someone else's life."

"She has it so easy," she sobbed. She's always had it easy. My parents love me too much. They want me to help with my baby sister. My boyfriend is always there and always wants me. It wasn't fair, she felt like screaming. I get to complain at least once. "I don't know how she became my best friend. We have nothing in common and all this has done is show me that I am nothing compared to the people around me and I will never be like them."

Landry moved closer to her, reaching to take her hands into his, whispering. "Tyra, ever think that Julie became your friend so you would be able to do something like this? You're educated now. You're self-sufficient. You care about…about everything. You're not just following some guy blindly and hating yourself for it. You think you're going to be like your mother? Or your sister? Tyra, you are not them and you never will be and ever think that friends like Julie are the reason for that?"

Maybe. I think it is. She'd been over this with him before. About why things changed with her. Jason Street's accident. The wake up call that she had to change her life. "Something's going to just explode soon," she murmured. She hung her head in her hands, pushing her fingers through her hair again. She closed her eyes, breathing deep for a few seconds before opening them again, staring straight at him. "Stevie's too resilient, Landry. Something's going to happen with him and…and Tim is going to completely lose his mind. He's too numb. Why do I have to bet he one to clean it up?"

He waited a moment. Until he shrugged. "Because you're the responsible one. You're the one who is going to pull them all through this and I know that that's a lot on you, but that's why I'm here." He paused, looking down at his hands. "And Matt and Julie and…and Mrs. Taylor. Just because she's in Philly doesn't mean she still isn't there. I think she'd drop the world to come to help you."

That's nice to have. Landry waited another moment. "You're worried about Tim and Lyla, but do you think that they have that relationship where she'd drop the world to come help him? Just like he'd do for her?"

"Yes," she said.

"So you don't have to worry about his response to her leaving. Worry about you. Worry about the kids."

I'll worry about the kids, she vowed. She shook her hand through her hair again, closing her eyes. "Thank you Landry. For everything."

Landry quirked a lip, reaching for a bottle of Advil sitting on the room tray cart. "Any time Tyra." He knocked a couple of pills into his hand, passing them to her. He waited again, watching her swallow them. "You want company on the drive?"

"Yes please," she said. Thank God he'd asked, she didn't want to have to actually ask him.

"Then we'll leave early. You better get to sleep."

She crawled beneath the covers, closing her eyes. There was something in that Advil, she thought. She caught a glimpse of the bottle. PM. Damnit Landry, you drugged me, she thought with a tiny smile, dropping off like a rock over the side of a cliff into sleep.

A few days later, after a massive apology to Julie and Matt, and a couple of days driving south with Landry in the cab of the U-Haul, silent most of the time, she pulled it up into Tim's driveway. Landry glanced sideways at her. "Home sweet home."

Yeah. I'll have to change my address. She climbed out of the cab, smiling when the front door opened, Stevie running out, with the twins right behind him. "Hey guys," she laughed, kneeling to swing Stevie up into her arms, the twins hopping around like little puppies at her feet. "What's up? I missed you."

"We got something to show you!"

"Yeah!" Ricky shouted, as Nicky giggled, throwing his hands in the air. "Horsie!"

Horsie? What….she froze, Landry at her side, staring as Tim walked around the side of the house, holding the reigns of…a horse. A very tall, very real, very not-hallucination horse. With a bride and reigns and a saddle and everything. She dropped her jaw, gaping at him. Tim grinned, throwing his arms to his side. "Look what I got for them!"

Landry glanced at her, clearing his throat. "Well okay, maybe Lyla leaving did have an effect on him."

She closed her eyes. Three kids, a horse, and Tim Riggins. "Please don't leave me Landry," she mumbled, setting Stevie down. She looked at the horse, pointing at it. "That thing stays outside. I don't ever want to see it in the house."

"I'm gonna' learn to ride backwards," Stevie said. He shot her a dark look. "And he'll keep monsters away."

Tim looked over at her, stroking the horse's face. "His name is Thor." She arched an eyebrow and he shrugged. "Well he didn't have a name the kids liked, so they picked Thor. I'm not about to tell them no."

Clearly, she thought, staring at the horse. It looked at her with coal black eyes and then let out a neigh, rearing its head back and snorting, turning into Tim. It hates me, she decided, looking at Landry. "Don't smile," she shouted at him, turning and stormed off to the truck.

Well this was just perfect, she thought with a growl, yanking up the back of the U-Haul to start hauling her boxes up to her room. She turned to Stevie and the twins, who were quivering behind her. She passed Stevie a box marked 'Pillows' and gave each of the twins a small item that they could carry with ease. "Take that to the living room. I'll bring it upstairs."

"We all live together," Stevie said. Ricky and Nicky both peered up at her. They were still so clueless, she thought, ruffling their heads. On the other hand, Stevie, the old soul that he was, as Mrs. Taylor had told her, looked up at her again. His eyes were shining. "They're not ever going to come back?"

No. No they're not. "No," she said, her heart breaking a bit. She touched her hand to his shoulder, her voice soft. "And we're all going to live together. For now." Until she could decide on a course for her future and she and Tim could figure out to raise three kids together with one of them being across the continent. She gestured to the house. "Go on inside. We'll have ice cream later. And a movie."

That perked them all up, but Stevie didn't seem too convinced. "I have to go to school," he said.

School? Shit, he did. They'd pulled him out of school about a month ago for the funeral and apparently no one had thought to return him. "Ah…we'll talk about that later." Shit. She waited for him to go, looking at Tim and Landry, who were wandering over. The horse was nowhere to be seen. "You and I are going to have a talk," she said to Tim, glaring at him. "A horse!? A horse! What the fuck were you thinking!?"

"I was thinking they needed something to keep them busy!"

"And who will be taking care of that thing!? Not the four year old!" She grabbed a heavy box, her muscles cording, and threw it at Tim, sending him stumbling off-balance backwards. Served him right. "Stevie has to go back to school. You can take care of that."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Figure it out, you're clearly responsible enough to take care of three kids and a quadruped!" She took a chair, dragging it inside and up to her room. She closed the door behind her, closing her eyes and slumped down to the floor. She didn't really believed in God. To be honest she was more of an Agnostic. In any case, just to be on the safe side, she prayed for some sort of strength.

When she opened her eyes a moment later, there was a knocking on the door. Tim cleared his throat. "Um, can you come out here please?"

"Why?" she sighed.

"Well it seems that Ricky has gotten his hand stuck in the top of a lamp we just brought in…I gotta' get the vegetable oil and Nicky keeps trying to do it to another lamp and…well, Stevie's kind of freaking out and thinks they're going to lose their hands."

Why Mindy, she thought, looking up at the ceiling. Did you have to procreate with a Riggins? "Coming," she called, pushing up to her feet and left the room. She swore she heard her sister laugh and say something about how she'd get used to it. Apparently she was also hearing voices to go with the newfound guardianship. Oh well, nothing would surprise her now.


	10. The Fall Will Kill You

_**10. ...The Fall Will Kill You**_

"What do you think that looks like?"

"Squiggles."

Tim looked at Tyra, who was reading through some sort of packet set on her knees. She cracked her gum. He glanced at a couple across from them, who shot them both a disproving look. Apparently sitting out in the hall waiting to be called in for your parent-teacher conference meant sitting in silence. "Sorry," he said, gesturing to Tyra. He lowered his voice to a staged whisper. "We're here for our nephew. Parents died a few months ago. You understand of course."

That immediately got them both sympathetic looks. "Steven Riggins?" the woman said, leaning forward. Her hand went to her heart. She looked like someone who walked right out of a catalogue for fitness clothing for the yuppie mother. Her husband looked like a banker. "The school sent home a letter. Our Megan was just devastated, we had to talk to her about death…it was heartbreaking."

"No more heartbreaking than telling a kid his parents are dead, as opposed to a total stranger you didn't know," Tyra said, her face stone cold.

Well this back-fired, Tim thought. Thankfully the door opened and someone walked out, Stevie's teacher, a pleasant looking young man that Stevie could say nothing but good things about, Mr. Elliott Cole, smiled at them. "Tim and Tyra? Come on back." He stepped aside, frowning slightly as he closed the door behind him. "Well what did you say to make Willa Hart frown like that? Woman seems like she's never frowned in her life."

"I told her the truth, she's probably never heard it before," Tyra said, offering her hand to him and smiling politely. "I'm Tyra Collette, this is Tim Riggins."

"I know Tim, I played varsity when you were JV," Elliott said, smiling quickly.

"What position?" This might go very well if the guy was a Panther. He suddenly had an image of someone that looked like him. Held a record for kicking until Landry Clarke came along for the East Dillon Lions.

"I was a kicker, actually. Played for three years and then my last one I focused entirely on cross-country and track. Got me a scholarship to Texas Tech." Elliott gestured to two adult-sized chairs on the other side of his desk, sitting in a tall chair behind the desk. He pulled a folder to him, flicking it open and then passed them each a paper. "This is just for you to sign stating that I'm actually explaining this to you and talking to you about Stevie as opposed to sending home a letter with himt hat will in all likliehood never get to you."

Tyra flashed a smile. What the hell was with her, suddenly all happy and giggly, he thought, squinting in her direction. He scribbled his signature while she looped hers on the dotted line. "Well Stevie tends to be forgetful. My sister always said he was a dreamer."

"Well Stevie does tend to dream," Elliott chuckled. He handed them each a packet. "This just outlines our curriculum for the next semester. Stevie is very advanced for his age group. He's one of the brightest kindergartners I've seen in my five years of teaching, which I'll grant you isn't a lot, but he's far above the average kids according to the State of Texas. Scored through the roof on his baseline proficiency test in our first week of school."

What kind of a guy became a kindergarten teacher, Tim wondered, narrowing his focus on Elliott. He looked at the paper vaguely. He'd leave it to Tyra to learn all this nonsense. "So he's smart?" he asked. He looked at the wall. There were two degrees and a ton of art projects behind Elliott's desk. He cocked his head at him. "Why'd you become a kindergarten teacher?"

"Didn't plan on it," Elliott answered, while at the same time Tyra kicked him and muttered a "Geez Tim, shut up." He laughed. "No it's okay," he said to Tyra, before turning his attention on Tim. "I'm actually licensed for K-7, but unfortunately for me, when Dillon Public Schools was hiring when I was out of my student teaching phase, they only had a kindergarten opening. I had student loans and figured I'd do a couple years in this place before I went up to the middle school, but I ended up liking it. I coach cross country and track at the middle school though, to keep from going completely insane with four and five year olds." He picked up another paper, studying it for a moment before clearing his throat. "Um, now while Stevie is advanced…I wanted to just…I don't know how to say this."

I know how to say it. "Talk about his dead parents?" Tim suggested. He smiled briefly at Elliott's wide-eyes. "I'm pretty blunt." He looked at the paper in front of him. Words flashed liked 'advanced' and 'intelligent' and 'excels.' He didn't see the problem. "What's he doing?" he asked.

Tyra cleared her throat. "What my brother-in-law means…"

Elliott interrupted both of them when they tried to talk again. "Basically what I'm trying to say is that while Stevie is advanced for his age and he's very good intellectually, his social skills are diminishing and it's no real surprise why." He waited a moment, turning the paper around. It was an art project. "We drew these when we talked about our families the other day. I wanted to talk to you in person about it, which was why I didn't call sooner."

The white construction paper had three little boys, two with blond hair and one with dark. Stevie and his two brothers, Tim pegged. He saw them both in a house. Outside of the house was what he figured was him, although he didn't like seeing what appeared to be a bottle in his hand, while Tyra was standing there holding a book. There was a bunch of clouds and then two people in a car. With…blood coming out of their necks. Lovely, he thought, sighing. "Great," he mumbled, falling back in the chair, slightly defeated.

"Needless to say it disturbed some of the other children," Elliott said, turning the picture over on the desk. He folded his hands over it. He cleared his throat, cocking his head slightly. "I really like Stevie and when we got the news that Mindy and Billy had passed away, the school send out papers with all the kids informing them, since it might get around. We asked for permission from the parents to discuss it in class with a child psychologist from the county…most of the kids didn't get it, but they knew that when Stevie came back that something bad happened and to be nice to him." He shrugged. "They're kids, what can you do? Some have been caught saying hurtful things to Stevie. He pushed a couple on the playground. I didn't write it up because honestly the kids didn't make a big deal of it and just walked away. I spoke with Stevie and made a note to discuss it with you." He paused again. "Are you guys doing anything on your end with him?"

Sending him to a shrink? No, but it had been discussed. Which meant Tyra brought it up because Mrs. Taylor brought it up and he'd said no. He shrugged, his voice soft. "Does he have to go to a psychologist person?"

Tyra seemed pained. "He's afraid of monsters all the time. He's either in my bed or Tim's…" She looked at him, quiet. "Tim, Mrs. Taylor warned us about this…the twins are fine because they don't know any better, but…he's not doing well."

"He seems fine," he muttered. He knew he was wrong. It wasn't right, but they couldn't bring them back…they had to deal with it now, he knew that, even if he didn't want to do it. He looked at Elliott. "Fine. What do we do?"

Elliott reached into his desk drawer, removing a card. He pushed it across the desk to them. "This is the psychologist that the school recommended. You can obviously talk to Stevie's pediatrician and get a referral. I think it'd be good for him to start going to therapy and the school psychologist agrees. He's losing touch with the rest of the kids. He had a few friends, but he doesn't talk to them anymore. He writes and colors in a book."

That stupid blue book, Tim instantly thought, whereas Tyra frowned. "Book?"

"A blue book," Elliott said, frowning at her. "You…you don't know it?"

"I do."

Tyra shot him a dark look. "You didn't want to tell me? What book is this?"

It was a blue leather book with blank white pages. He'd seen Stevie with it a few times since the funeral. Stevie said it was a gift, but he wouldn't say where he got it. He carted it everywhere and colored in it with a box of crayons that Tim didn't remember buying him or finding for him. He'd confronted Lyla and lo and behold, Charity Garrity had taken it upon herself to give Stevie some sort of coping mechanism. "My…" he trailed off. He shrugged, gesturing slightly to the air. "My friend got him that book. It's blank, it's for coloring. He likes to draw."

"Your friend? Lyla?"

"Lyla?" Elliott echoed. He nodded, suddenly understanding. "Miss Lyla. He talks about a lady who lives in Africa. I thought it was…" He shrugged, chuckling. "Thought it was a made-up friend, that's very common with these kids."

"She doesn't live there, but she works there, she lives in Tennessee most of the time," Tim explained. He ignored Tyra's dark looks. "She's not in Texas, but she helped out after the funeral. Stevie must have taken to her." It wasn't difficult unless she pissed you off, which she was bound to do, but apparently she hadn't gotten that far with Stevie yet. "Is the book bad?"

Elliott shook his head, but then hesitated. "I don't know, that's something you'll have to talk to the psychologist about. He doesn't let anyone see inside of it." He reached for another paper. "This was a test we took recently on shapes and colors. He colored on the sides. Lots of dark colors. He did get an A on it."

Well it wasn't hard to tell a square from a circle, now was it, Tim thought. He let Tyra take the test. He didn't see the point in this anymore. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Not that I can talk to, but…" Elliott hesitated again, looking down at his hands, which were clutching a pencil. Tim thought he might break it, he was holding it so tightly. Spit it out man. "Um…I don't know how to say this, but…"

"Just saying it usually works," Tyra said.

"Well…" Elliott glanced at them both quickly. "The other kids ask questions about Stevie's new parents. You might want to talk to him about how to answer those questions. The psychologist can talk to you about it. It's not that big of a deal, having a non-nuclear family. I just…the kids don't care about most of the other situations, honestly. We've got gay parents, we've got single parents, and we have teenage parents in our class. The idea that Stevie had a mom and a dad, but now he has an aunt and an uncle...I think he's having difficulty with some of the judgment. Again, talk to the psychologist."

Well that settled it then, Tim thought. We've got to go see a child shrink. Fine. He stood up, shook Elliott's hand and left the room while Tyra continued to flirt. Or whatever it was she was doing. He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking down the small hallways and out to his truck. He leaned against it, waiting for her to come out a few moments later. "Got a date?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You were flirting with the teacher."

"Are you jealous?"

"You wish."

She held up the folder that Elliott had had in front of him. It was red and had 'Stevie' written on it in neat handwriting in the top right corner. "I was getting this and did you ever hear that it was easier to catch more flies with honey than vinegar?"

"Kills the flies with vinegar, that's kind of the point." Whatever, he knew what she was talking about. He just didn't like hearing all that stuff about Stevie. He could handle it on his own. Stevie would be fine. They'd talk about it a bit, they'd take Simba out for a ride or something, and then he'd be fine. He climbed up into the truck. "You looking to get laid or something?"

She attached her seatbelt, drawling. "Tim, if I was looking to get laid, I'd just walk into your room." What? His eyes widened, but he said nothing, his hand stilling on the key in the ignition. She looked up, grinning maniacally. "Ha. Got you to shut up, didn't it?"

Damnit. She did get him to shut up. "Whatever," he mumbled.

"Tim if I was looking for a jump in my sex life, I wouldn't go to you or to the new teacher."

"Stay away from Landry." The tone was a lot more warning that she probably thought he could get. He shot her a sideways look. She said nothing, a muscle tensing visibly in her jaw. He draped his wrist over the top of the steering wheel. "So I got you to shut up," he mumbled, rolling his eyes sideways to her again. She didn't smile or joke with him this time. Fine. He wanted to warn her off of Landry at some point; he liked Landry. They were friends; he didn't want his friend hurt because Tyra decided she wanted the nice guy instead of him. Just to go for him later on, which was usually her record.

They drove in silence. Tyra cleared her throat. "That new babysitter is weird."

"She is weird." She was goth or something. They'd gotten her name and number as a part-time babysitter for the kids from Buddy, who apparently heard about her from one of the waitresses at the bar. She was the waitress's little sister or something.

"We should probably get a background check done."

"We should," he agreed. He looked out the window, his sunglasses pushed up on the bridge of his nose. "You hungry? Want to stop and get something before we go back to the house?"

"No. I don't want people talking about us having dinner while the kids are at home with a babysitter. I don't want funny ideas going around." We're not that well known Tyra. He ignored her, pulling into the parking lot at Fran's. "I said I don't want dinner," she protested, when he climbed out.

"Well I do, so stay in the car, crazy lady," he bitched.

"I'm not crazy!" An older woman climbing out of the car beside the truck jumped, her hand going to her heart. Tyra smiled quickly, wiggling her fingers. "Hello!"

"She's off her medication," Tim said, sympathetic to the older woman, offering his elbow to her. "Can I help you inside Mrs. Smithson?"

"Oh Timmy, you're such a good dear, I'm so sorry to hear about your brother, wonderful coach," the older woman, who Tim knew from his Panther days as the wife of a well-connected Booster, chatted, patting his forearm. "Such a sad tale, how are the children?"

"As well as can be I expect."

"You're going to go to Heaven Tim, God rewards those that look after little children in need."

Well I have that to look forward to, he thought, desperately holding back an eyeroll. He let go of her arm, watching her walk off to join some of the older biddies from the Booster Club at a booth, walking up to the register. He leaned on it, looking at Tinker. "I need a burger and fries, throw in…" he lifted his eyes up to the ceiling, counting out. "Four milkshakes, two chocolate, one vanilla, and one strawberry."

Tinker didn't bother inputting it into the computer, leaning forward. "When you coming out to coach man? They're falling apart without your brother."

"I don't coach."

"You really should, we actually did good when you coached."

I don't coach, he felt like saying again. Once in a blue moon he'd help out a struggling player, but other than that, he was not the next Coach Taylor and he let Billy take that stuff instead. "Just get my food," Tim mumbled, pushing away and turning, closing his eyes when he saw someone he really didn't want to deal with walking up towards him. He opened his eyes, feeling his shoulders crack as Buddy Garrity jerked him into a tight bear-hug. "Mr. Garrity."

"Tim we're family now, you call me Buddy."

We are not family. Not really. "Mr. Garrity," he repeated.

Buddy waved his hand, as if saying 'ah, well I tried.' "How are you doing son? Angela's looking forward to seeing the kids on Saturday." They'd planned a trip for her to spend the day with them, now that she was finishing up her therapy sessions, they thought it might be good for her.

"Yeah, they can't wait to see her," he said. What was Buddy up to now?

"Here you go Tim," Tinker said, pushing the food across the counter. He reached for it and Tinker waved. "What's up Mr. G?"

"The sun, Tinker, the sun, and my mood. We've got Arnett Mead on Friday for Rival Week and they just lost their start quarterback and the backup to food poisoning," he laughed.

Only Buddy would be pleased that someone else was sick, Tim thought, rolling his eyes. He cleared his throat, grabbing the tray of milkshakes. "Alright, I'll see you later Mr. Garrity."

"Hold up there Tim, hold up, now I was talking with Lyla last night…"

No good could come of this conversation. He stiffened; Buddy didn't know about the baby. Lyla didn't want him to know, because she worried about his reaction. He might completely lose his shit. "And?" he prompted.

Buddy frowned. "And I think she's not telling me something. But whatever, she said she would be home at Christmas. She's going to do some study thing for her Master's in the Congo. The Congol! Can you imagine!? She's teaching English to kids who don't know English."

Well that's kind of the point. "She's a teacher, Mr. Garrity, that's kind of the point." He tried to sidestep him, but Buddy moved quickly for being an old large man. He sighed. "Yes?"

"She's lying to me about something Tim Riggins. Do you know anything about that?" Um, maybe I do, he thought, keeping his mouth shut. Buddy waited a moment and then waved his hand. "You'd never tell me. Anyways, let me know if you need anything and Tim…" he paused, putting on his Buddy face. "I want to just thank you for all your help with Lyla, I know she's just been going through some stuff and you've been there and you're doing so well with your nephews and all."

"Thank you Mr. Garrity." I actually appreciate that, he thought, smiling a little. It was nice to hear someone say that.

Buddy smiled quickly, patting his shoulder. "I look forward to seeing you on the sidelines at the game with a clipboard. I'll send you a contract. Have a good evening Tim!"

He stood in place for a moment, holding the melting milkshakes and his increasingly cold burger. Shit. He sighed, walking out to the truck, shoving everything at Tyra as he climbed in. "What the hell is wrong with you? Did you get strawberry for me?" she asked, grabbing the pink milkshake. She frowned at him as he sat in the front seat, not moving. "Tim?"

He sighed. "I got Buddy Garrity'd."

"Shit. What'd he do?"

"I think he got me to start coaching…now that…now that Billy's gone."

"You're a contractor."

He sighed, starting the ignition. "I am a contractor, but try telling that to Buddy Garrity." He'd do this part-time. Until they hired someone permanently. It was just for a few weeks. Maybe even until the end of the season. He could bring the kids. Might save them some money on daycare, which the twins weren't used to. Mindy watched them most days.

Tyra slurped her milkshake. She knocked her head back into the rest and closed her eyes. "I need to find a real job. This thing at the middle school will kill me." She paused. "I need to get to a school or something…just…I need to do something."

We shouldn't change too much. They've been through enough change. "We can talk about it later," he muttered, pulling out of the parking space and driving back to the house. He parked behind Tyra's car, a battered Jeep. "You have got to get a new car."

"I'll just use my imaginary money then, shall I?"

"Use whatever, but that thing is an eyesore in my drive."

"And your car is a beaut."

"She sure is." He slammed the door, which squeaked from rust. He went up into the house, kneeling down to hug Ricky, who ran towards him. He brushed his lips on Ricky's fine dark hair. The only one who had the Riggins dark hair while Stevie and Nicky got the Collette lighter genes. He lifted him up. "Want some milkshake?" he asked, taking the vanilla one and passed it to him. He carried Ricky out onto the porch, leaving Tyra to pay for the sitter.

He always felt of the three, Ricky sometimes got the short end of the stick. He was the smaller twin, he'd been a little sick as a baby, and he always fell back to what his older brothers wanted. He was literally the little black sheep of the family, so Tim sympathized, being a black sheep himself most of the time. He took the milkshake from Ricky after he'd sucked on the straw for a few seconds. He rested his hand on his forehead, frowning slightly. Ricky whimpered, his head going to his shoulder.

"Please don't be sick," he mumbled, his knuckles brushing Ricky's cheek. He hugged him tighter. "You miss your Mom and Dad, huh?" he whispered.

"No," Ricky said. He didn't really know what he was saying no to though. He lifted his fingers up. "Boo-Boo."

Tim checked out the index finger with a Transformers bandaid. "You do have a boo boo, huh?"

"Kiss."

"Why?"

"Make better."

I suppose it might, Tim thought, kissing the finger and squeezed the little hand, smiling at Ricky's giggle, his head burying back into his shoulder. He hugged him tight. They won't know them, he thought, sighing hard. He released Ricky, sinking into one of the chairs in the back of the porch, taking his phone out. He turned Ricky around in his arms, letting him drink his milkshake in peace as he made a phone call. He waited until she answered, sounding asleep. "I got Buddy Garrity'd."

"I don't want to know," she groaned. She sighed. "Tim it's like three in the morning here."

"I don't care, your dad totally was all nice and innocent and now I'm coaching for the Panthers in place of my brother."

"He was bound to do something like that."

He waited a moment; Buddy had seemed extra…careful around him. He cleared his throat. "Did you tell him?" He didn't have to mention what he was talking about.

"No." She waited a beat. "How are things there?"

"We're going to get Stevie a psychologist."

"I'm sorry Tim. It will do him good though."

Yeah, it might. He leaned back in the chair, his voice soft. "Tyra and I can't stand living together. I think we're going to kill each other."

"Just means you guys love each other."

Whatever. He still wanted to kill her most of the time. "I think we're gonna' have to reevaulate this thing in a few months," he said. Living together as guardians was going to take its toll eventually. There were still emotions under the surface to contend with. He waited again, lightly patting Ricky's stomach as the little boy started dozing off in his arm, the milkshake falling out of his hand. He glanced down, the vanilla milkshake spilling over Ricky's hand, onto his shirt and jeans, and onto the porch. They were going to get ants. Great. He still didn't move, still talking and listening to her breath. "I still don't know what I'm doing."

"Hmm…you won't."

Well that was cheerful. "We had a parent teacher conference. Tyra flirted with the teacher."

"You jealous?"

"You wish."

She chuckled. "I don't know what I wish anymore Tim. Can I go to sleep now? You sound like you're fine."

"I am fine."

"You got a horse."

He waited. "How do you know?"

"I have my sources. Good night Tim."

"Night Garrity." He disconnected, tossing the phone onto the table beside the chair. He looked to the paddock, where Thor was munching from his trough. He sighed, turning to Ricky, who was blinking a little, fighting back his nap. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Horsie."

"Naw, let's get you cleaned up and to bed. You don't look so hot." He set the milkshake container in the sink, as they walked through the kitchen where Tyra was convincing Stevie to help her with the dishes and Nicky slurped his milkshake from his booster chair. He took Ricky up to the bathroom, hosed him down, and changed his diaper, setting him in his little toddler bed in one of the room. He leaned back on the end of it, looking around.

It used to just be a little bedroom for the boys, but they'd rearranged some things. Stevie now had the small room at the end of the hall, which was just going to be like a tiny office or something. This room became the twins' and Tyra was across the hall, while he was between them and Stevie. It might be easier if he tried to make Tyra a place of her own and give Stevie the other real bedroom, but Tyra had already painted in pale yellow and installed all her stuff. He glanced at Ricky, patting his stomach. "Sleep tight," he said, pushing to his feet and adjusting the baby monitor, carrying it downstairs.

"Where's Ricky?" Tyra asked.

"I think he's getting sick."

"Shit." She raked her fingers through her hair, her eyes widening as she covered her mouth. "Oh my God."

He looked at her. "What?" What now, he felt like asking, but he refrained. He picked up a stack of mail, carrying it to his chair to open. She immediately appeared at his side, grabbing the mail. "Ow, paper cuts!"

Tyra seemed manic. "Tim, we don't have health insurance for the kids! My mom has shitty insurance so I bought student healthcare from UT and then Chicago, I lost it when I gave up my spot! I got the crappy kind that just covers me, but I can't afford three boys on it."

Health insurance? Shit. That was so grown-up. He dropped his hands to his side. "Well what do you want me to do?"

"Put them on yours, you get it through the company, right?"

"Right." He stood up, walking into the other room, where in a fit of Ms. Cleanliness, Lyla had rearranged his 'office.' Which was basically a tupperware container full of papers. He rummaged through, finding his enrollment papers. He scanned through them, all the stuff over his head, until he spotted what he was looking for. His eyes widened. "Oh my God! That's like an extra two-hundred out of my check a month!"

"Kids are expensive, Tim." She leaned over his shoulder, taking the paper and sighing. "I'll call them tomorrow morning." She shrugged, waving the paper and rolling her eyes, chuckling. "Bet you didn't think you'd be worrying about this stuff now, huh?"

No, he thought. Definitely not. He turned around, just in time to hear Stevie start yelling in curious disgust, as Nicky puked up most of his milkshake onto the kitchen floor. He glanced at the monitor in his hand, hearing almost the same sounds from upstairs. Aw, crap. He went over to Nicky, feeling his head. Burning up. Ricky was probably in the same boat. "Tyra," he yelled. "We've got a problem."

"Deal with it."

"We've got sickness in here."

Tyra appeared, made a face, and reached for Stevie. "Come on, let's get you out of here before you catch it." But it only took a couple of hours before Stevie was complaining of stomach aches and not feeling well himself. It wasn't until after he had a 109 degree fever, which Tim suspected came from sticking the thermometer in hot water when Tyra had her back turned, did both of them meet in the hallway between the twins' room and Stevie's.

"He's faking," they both said at once.

Tyra shook her head, muttering. "He wants attention." She sighed, looking in on Stevie, who was playing with a video game. Once she walked in, Tim could guess that Stevie would throw that thing across the room and go back to moaning and groaning, holding his stomach. She tapped his chest. "I'll go sit with him and…maybe it'll pass if he's got the attention. You stay with the twins tonight. I called one of those nurse lines, it's probably just a stomach bug."

Probably, he hoped, nodding. He looked at Stevie. Poor kid. Just wanted someone. "We need call the shrink," he whispered. He'd pay whatever he had to pay. Call it intuition or something, but in the span of about four hours he'd changed his tune on that. Stevie really needed someone to talk to that wasn't them.

She nodded. "I'll call tomorrow. Wash your hands, I don't need you catch this too."

I'll be fine, Tim thought, going into the twins' room and sank into the rocker that used to be in their room at the old house. He took Ricky from the bed, little boy having thrown off all his covers. This thing was moving quick, hopefully it was gone by morning, he thought, rocking back and soothing the little boy, who just whimpered through most of the night. I wish I could make it better kid, he thought, looking down at him and lightly stroked his back. Was this what you were supposed to do to make them better?

"Bear," Ricky mumbled.

"Bear?" he thought.

Ricky cried, reaching and pulling at his shirt, sobbing. "Bear!"

Bear…bear…oh! He suddenly had an image of Billy saying something like 'bear hug' and squeezing Ricky tight. He carefully moved him around and hugged him tight, his arms wrapped around the little boy and his wrists clasped by each hand. Ricky sighed, relaxing a little against him, completely wrapped up. It must be comforting, he thought, looking down at him again. He glanced at Nicky, who was tossing and turning in bed. Sick kids, he thought, shaking his head. Yet another milestone to contend with.

At some point in the night, he crawled into the little bed with both of them, his arm draped across them. Am I doing this right, he wondered, watching them sleep. It was about two in the morning and he hadn't even closed his eyes, making sure each of them were breathing and were cool enough, wiping their faces down and checking their temperatures and giving them baby aspirin. "Am I doing this right," he whispered, not expecting an answer.

You'll get better at it Timmy, he swore he heard in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure if it was Billy, but he liked to think it was. Or it was the lack of sleep, he thought, yawning and closed his eyes, drifting off.


	11. Fathers and Sons Will Have Issues

**_11. ...Fathers and Sons Will Have Issues_**

"Stevie can I see your book?"

"No."

Tyra shrugged, flicking through a magazine. She was sitting outside on the back porch. It was a Friday afternoon, rather early, and she was supposed to take Stevie to the football game that night; Tim was already at the fieldhouse with the twins. She didn't expect him to fully embrace his role as a running backs coach, but he'd kind of begrudgingly accepted it and went early on Fridays when he got off work from whatever demolition site he was at that day.

This is my life. Friday nights at the football stadium; I thought I'd left it all behind when I graduated high school. She flicked through the magazine again, seeing the same article she'd ready twice already about what sweater was best for your hair type or something. She set it down on the table, her ankles crossed and propped on the chair beside her, while Stevie sat directly across and was coloring in his blue book. "Can I see?" she repeated.

The psychologist visit had gone alright. He would be seeing Dr. Amy Peabody twice a week after kindergarten for the next three months and if he'd progressed, she'd move him to once a week for another three months and then they'd reassess whether he still needed her. Stevie hadn't minded. He liked Dr. Amy and thought it was cool that he went somewhere without the twins. They always got an ice cream afterward, something Amy had suggested. Give him a treat with the visit so he didn't dread them.

There had only been one visit out of the six he'd already been to where he'd left upset. Amy had said she'd made a breakthrough. Stevie was awake with Angela when she'd gotten the news and he'd witnessed his grandmother's breakdown. It was fairly traumatizing for him. Tyra had no idea he'd been in the house when Angela got the phone call to come to the police station. Buddy had been the one to tell her later that he'd been with Stevie. She'd just assumed he was with Buddy the entire evening.

Amy had told her to keep asking him to the see the book. Eventually he'd let her. He'd shown Amy the book, but Amy had made a promise to him that he wouldn't show it to anyone else. Apparently they kept secrets from her. She cleared her throat. "Did Miss Lyla give you the crayons? They're kind of worn down, we'll get you some new ones."

"Okay," Stevie agreed. He set a pink one down and picked up a blue, beginning to color in something he'd just drawn. She sat up a little, but almost on cue, he leaned back, tilting the book up so all she saw was a cloth blue cover. He looked over the top. "Aunt Tyra?"

"Yeah?"

"When do we go to the football place?"

"Around five."

"What time is it?"

"It's only one, sweetheart."

"Where's Uncle Tim?"

"He's with your brothers, he's coaching now, remember?"

Stevie nodded, remembering. He smiled a little and set down another crayon, choosing a brown one. He twisted it around a moment, his little dark eyes meeting hers. He blinked. She blinked back. He smiled again. "Can I play football?"

Can you play football? Football is in your genes, kid. You'll play one day. "When you're a little bigger." She couldn't tell you what age it was that they started Pee Wee. Or whatever it was called. Tim would know. It wasn't a tackle league, that was for sure. She couldn't see Stevie hurting anyone though. He was such a sweet kid. She'd make sure to ask Amy if football was okay for him. "You can play football one day," she said, instead of giving him a definite time. She picked up her phone, checking a text message from Tami.

_How are things? _

She sent back a quick response. _Good. Stevie's in therapy, it's okay. It's all okay._

_Doesn't sound okay._

It was though. That was just it. It was just 'okay.' She went to the middle school and she did her sort of counseling thing. She hated it. She hated the kids. She ahd too much edge; she'd been told several times to tone down her language around them. Be softer, the principal had the nerve to tell her. She came home after work, usually picked up the kids from their after-school program. The twins were always there, but Stevie was bussed from the elementary school to the other program.

Tim would come home later, usually after dinner. She really didn't know where he went, because he wasn't at practice. She'd called Buddy once when he hadn't come home by seven, just to make sure he was okay. The last thing she needed was Tim dying in a car accident and leaving her all alone.

It was like we're one big happy fucking perfect family, she thought, glancing at Stevie, who was coloring intensely in the book. She shook her head, clearing her throat. "Do you want to go to the game now?" She was bored out of her skull.

"Okay."

They gathered their things. She refused to wear Panther gear. Never had, never will. She got him into his booster seat and drove slowly, finally coming to a stop at the fieldhouse beside Tim's truck. That battered black thing had to go, she thought, rolling her eyes at it. She helped Stevie out; he took off for the door. She walked through, most of the high school boys diving for cover lest she see them in their underwear. "At ease gentlemen," she drawled, waltzing down the hallway to Tim's office. The twins were playing on the floor with athletic tape, wrapping each other up in it and Ace bandages. She glanced at Tim, who had Stevie in his lap, still looking at something on the desk. "Hello."

"Hmm," he said in response.

She rolled her eyes. "We're early. I was bored."

"Okay." He looked up, blinking a couple times. "What are you going to do now?"

Hell if I know. She picked at her fingernails. Maybe go get a manicure. "You want to watch them while I go pamper myself for a couple hours before the game?" It had been forever since she'd actually done something for herself. Tim seemed to have all these mysterious nights. He was probably out getting laid. She met his gaze. "I deserve an hour, Tim."

"It's Friday night, Tyra."

"And it's not like you're a coordinator, Tim, you're a running back coach and you've had the twins, what's one more and Stevie will just color?" She thought to Stevie's request to play football. She shrugged. "Teach him to throw a ball."

The reaction she got felt like her head snapped back from whiplash. "Absolutely not," he snapped, throwing the chair backwards as he stood quickly. He looked at Stevie, who looked up from his book and the twins, who suddenly stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He glanced at her again, his voice cold. "Get your damn manicure, but I am not, not, throwing a ball with him."

The hell was that about, she thought, looking up. She frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine." He paused. "Go get your nails done or hair done or whatever it is you girls do." He looked at the twins. "Come on guys. Let's go outside."

That was really weird. They vacated the office, leaving her alone in the chair, her ankles crossed. She shook her head. Tim's moods, honestly. She walked around the desk and sat down, looking at the two pictures he had sitting in the corner. She suspected that this was his only real space where he was by himself. He worked out of his truck. It was for a company based out of Austin, some big construction and demolition conglomerate. Tim liked blowing stuff up and they'd sent him to various training and classes and the like and now he could rig anything to demolish itself with the press of a computer button. Kind of freaky.

One photo was of the three boys. It was one of their professional photographs that Mindy had done, not long before she passed. The second one was of Lyla. She picked it up, staring at the other woman's face. Where was this, she wondered. She was on a blanket somewhere, smiling up at the camera as though Tim was looking down at her, laughing at something. She couldn't believe he'd allow something this intensely personal to be on his desk. In the public, where anyone could see it. Very strange.

Maybe he was changing, she thought, setting the picture down. As she set it down, her fingers caught on something on the back. Huh. She turned it around, seeing a picture edge hanging out from the back. Weird. She removed the backing and plucked out a small picture, staring at it. Tim and Billy. Sitting on the stoop of the house before it was even finished. Just the frame was up. They still weren't getting along. Well, Tim still wasn't fully forgiving Billy. Why did he hide this one, she wondered, touching the frayed edge. She looked up; no one was around. She shoved it into her pocket and replaced the back.

He wouldn't miss it. That would give her time to do something with it. She stood up and grabbed her car keys, leaving the fieldhouse. Her glasses fell from the top of her head to her nose, darkening her view of Tim and the boys on the edge of the field, walking on the bleachers in a single file line, Ricky leading the way, followed by Nicky, Stevie, and Tim bringing up the rear. They all looked exactly alike.

Her heart clenched a little. It didn't do that that much anymore. Over three months, practically four since the accident. Hard to believe. She left them to their devices, hopping into her Jeep and driving off towards the nail salon.

She was halfway there when she had an epiphany, slamming on her brakes. "Oh my God," she blurted out. She ignored the car honking its horn behind her and did a U-turn, speeding towards Buddy's Bar. She jerked the beat-up car to a stop, running inside. "Hey Mom," she said, smiling at her mother, who was leaning against the bar, behind the counter, organizing cocktail fruit.

Angela smiled warmly at her. Therapy and anti-depressants were God's gifts, Tyra thought. "Hey sweetie, you're not going to the game. Where are my grandsons?"

"Tim's got them."

"You know sweetie you really should think about making that official."

And I know she's better because I'm getting 'you should marry Tim' hints again. Tyra leaned over and kissed her mother's cheek. "I'll talk to you later Mom. Is Landry upstairs?"

"Last I saw, but I don't check on him. Come down and get a drink and give me a kiss before you leave."

"Yeah." She ran behind the bar and down the hallway to the door at the end. It was open, despite technically being Landry's front door. She ran up the stairs and up into the large studio apartment. "Landry?"

"Who is that?" he called from behind a partition. He walked around it, shaking his jacket up over his shoulders. He frowned. "What are you doing here?"

It was the first time she'd ever been up here. Not knowing what it had looked like, she was sure Landry had made some improvements. The walls were stormy gray with white trim, there was a stainless steel college dorm fridge beneath a short counter, with one burner and probably a stove big enough for a cookie sheet to go in vertically. Everything had its place. There was a tall pub table with two stools, a coffee table covered in music sitting in front of a loveseat and a large stuffed chair. She peeked behind the partition, seeing his bedroom covered in clothing and instruments propped against the wall.

She shrugged, seeming nonchalant. "Nice place."

"It'll do until Crucifictorious makes it big."

"Yeah." She wanted to make a joke, but Landry had quit college for this. Right about to graduate and he was out of there to make it full time in a band. Didn't seem like him at all that he not graduate and she be magna cum laude. She shrugged again, sitting down on the coffee table, her arms going over her knees. "How is that going?"

"We have a tryout for SXSW."

Lots of people had tryouts. Didn't mean they made the biggest independent music festival in the country. She cleared her throat. "Good luck."

"We'll see. Devin is dating the producer's daughter, so this could go either way. Only reason we got his attention was because his daughter gave him our songs." Landry fell backwards onto the loveseat, blowing out a hard breath. He smiled a little. "I'm going to dinner at my parents' house. Shouldn't you be at the game?"

"What like I'm a coach's wife?" she snapped.

He arched an eyebrow. "No," he drawled. "Because Tim is going to be killing those running backs if they screw up a play and babysitting three wandering boys might get in the way of that."

"Tim is only doing this because Buddy Garrity did a mind trick with him." She shrugged, mumbling her thought out loud, not even realizing. "Plus you know, he's guilty about the baby."

Landry looked over at her, frowning. "The baby?"

"Yeah I told you." She thought she did at least. He nodded in remembrance. She shrugged again, muttering. "Buddy doesn't know…only Tim, me, you, and Lyla's mom know." She looked up, smiling slightly. "Buddy Garrity doesn't even know that his worst fear has happened, but fate corrected it somehow…I don't know. Anyways…yeah." She sighed, biting her lip. "So I came here, if you were wondering, to bounce an idea off you."

He shrugged, his hands folded between his knees. "What's up?"

"Is it…" She narrowed her eyes. "Is it possible that…that Tim wouldn't want to teach Stevie how to throw a football because he…he thinks he's stepping on Billy's territory?" She'd seen Tim teach random kids in the store how to properly throw something. The instant she suggested Stevie, his reaction…that had to be the reason. She just didn't think Tim would let something like that get to it.

He smiled. "Of course."

"Oh. Okay."

"And you knew it, but you came here to ask me…because…" he trailed off, waiting for her response.

She sighed. "Would you be willing to teach Stevie how to throw a football?" She followed it up immediately. "He really wants to learn, Landry. I think it might be good for him, I mean I can check with the therapist, but he's a Riggins. I think once he gets out there the genes will snap in and he'll be the third generation of Panther."

Landry briefly smiled before he shook his head. Her hsoulders slumped. What? Why not? "Sorry Tyra. I'd love to help you and I wouldn't mind teaching Stevie how to throw a football, but as I said before, I like my face the way it is." He paused. "Me teach a Riggins kid how to throw a ball? Tim will kill me. That's something between fathers and sons and I'm guessing that Tim just doesn't want to do it right now because that means it's really over."

"They've been dead four months," she whispered. She looked up. It didn't hurt any less. "He's going to have to get over it…he already has in some ways."

"Are you over your sister? Do you think if they had a girl that you'd be able to teach her about boys and makeup and stuff?" Landry paused as she thought about it. Probably not. That was something mothers did with their daughters. She looked down as he whispered. "This is a father and son thing. He'll get it eventually. You have to push him to it, slowly, but…it has to be Tim's idea."

You really are wasted as a musician and substitute teacher, she thought, lifting her eyes again and smiling. "Thank you," she murmured. You should go into psychology. You're sure as hell better at it than me.

Landry stood, walking over to a desk. He pulled out a folder and walked back, passing it to her. "Found this for you today at the library."

What the hell was it? She took the folder, looking down at it. Texas A&M. Online Graduate…she looked up. "The hell?" The back of her neck prickled with anger. How dare he, she thought, standing quickly, holding the folder out like it was poisonous. "You got me continuing education stuff?"

He seemed taken aback. "Yeah, I mean…you want something to do, right?"

"Not like this! Not like some Dillon Tech graduate!" She dropped the folder, storming to the door. She spun on her heel, her cheeks flushed. Embarassing is what it was. "I'll see you later." She ran down the stairs and out the front, saying goodbye to her mother, but not stopping for a drink. She felt…it was nice of him to do that and she probably overreacted, but she was not getting her degree from some graduate program for single mothers or people with ten kids and no life beyond that.

She hit the gas, speeding to the nail salon. As they massaged her fingers and painted her nails, she didn't feel any more relaxed. In fact, she felt silly. Like she had to apologize to Landry. To Tim. To everyone, really. It was an odd feeling to have. She finished her manicure, got into her Jeep, and went back to the stadium. It was game time.

"Hey Tyra," a voice called to her. It was one of Mindy's friends. There didn't seem to be anyone from her time in Dillon left in the city except for Landry and Tim. She even missed Becky, as annoying as she could be. Becky was living in Germany. Even Becky had an exotic life, while Luke was in the Army.

She went to sit with Mindy's friends, who were watching the boys while Tim coached. "Are you with him?" one of them asked.

"No," she automatically answered. Suspicion dawned on her. Was this Tim's screw buddy? "Why?" she drawled, narrowing her eyes at Candy, sitting beside her.

Candy cracked her gum. "No reason. I've just always wondered. Heard things about him, you know."

"Yeah…you know anyone who might be aware of that," she asked, sliding her gaze sideways.

Thankfully Candy wasn't too keen on her meaning and shook her head, cracking her gum again. It sounded like damn gunfire. "No. Some girls around the Landing Strip had a bet about who could get with him first, but none of us did. I mean…a couple of the older girls knew him from way back, but he doesn't hook up with us girls anymore. Someone said that his tastes are refined, whatever that means."

"So he isn't hanging out at the Strip at night?"

Candy snorted. "God no, at least he'd probably tip better than most of the guys out there. I can't remember the last time…" she trailed off, frowning. "Actually I can. Mindy brought Ricky because he was sick and Tim came to get him. That was like a year ago or something. Then there was that time where we got his girl, she was his girl at least, we got her a pole in a private room. Something she wanted to try."

So Tim did have a girlfriend at some point. "What girl was that?" she asked.

"That preacher girl."

Holy shit! Lyla!? Lyla stripped!? Her eyes widened and she whipped her head to Candy. "Are you telling me Lyla Garrity went to you guys and awnted to know how to strip?"

Candy laughed. "Most women want to try it Tyra. Your sister was the best teacher, she gave her the moves and from what I understand it went pretty well because she was grabbing Tim and dragging him out of there to take him home. Pretty thing. Where is she, why isn't she with him now?"

"They're not together either." Damn. Lyla Garrity. You never knew what lay beneath the surface sometimes, she thought, shaking her head and chuckling. That still didn't answer her question though. She frowned slightly. "So if he's not hanging out at the Strip with you guys, where is he until like seven and eight at night if he's not with us?"

"I don't know sweetheart, but it ain't with us."

Curioser and curioser, she thought, looking over at Tim. At some point during the game, he came up to the stands, picking up Ricky beneath his arm. "Want a hot dog?" he asked the kid, passing him some cash. "Go with Aunt Candy and get a hot dog."

"I want money too," Stevie demanded, holding out his hand. He giggled when he got some cash, running off with them for hot dogs.

Tim looked down at her, smiling briefly. "Sorry I snapped earlier."

"Sorry I ran out," she said. She also owed an apology to Landry. She'd talk to him tomorrow. She moved closer to Tim, looking up and gripping the edge of the bleacher seat beneath her. "Tim, I really think Stevie might be better if yout each him football. God knows I can't."

He stiffened, looking to the field. "Can't," he mumbled.

Fine. I won't push it. She cleared her throat again. "Where do you go at night?"

"Hey Tim!" Buddy yelled from the field, waving at him. "Get back down here!"

Tim made a move to go, but she grabbed his wrist, forcing herself to stand so she could look down at him on the step below. She smiled briefly, trying to seem comforting and not accusatory. "Where are you going at night?" she murmured. She shook her head a little. "Tim you can tell me…I know it's not the Landry Strip and Landry would have told me if it was the bar."

He waited, his voice soft. "Would he, Tyra?"

Would he? What was that supposed to mean? She frowned. "So you are at the bar?"

"Why are you spying on me?"

Now you're being defensive. Classic guilty behavior. She scowled. I'm not playing Counselor Tyra right now. "Tim I just want to know, I'm not the single mom here while you go play the ponies all night and hang with the boys or whatever. I deserve to know where you spend your nights when I have three kids riding on you coming home at a decent hour to play or…or throw a damn football." This was not the place to have this conversation but for some reason it felt like the perfect place. Surrounded by everyone, in Tim's version of a church, where somehow they were the only two people listening to each other as everyone moved around.

He shifted his weight, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He looked so grown-up in his khakis and blue polo with the blue baseball hat. Although his was on backwards. He glared up at her again. "Tyra, just leave it alone, please." He begged, his face falling a little. "Just give me the nights, for a couple more weeks. Okay?"

I'm more confused and curious than ever. She nodded. Fine. I'll give you this for a couple more weeks. She diffused the situation by grinning. "So Lyla Garrity did a pole dance at the Landing Strip, huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "That was supposed to be private."

"Candy told me that Mindy gave her lessons."

Tim shook his head, laughing a little. "You ever mention that to her you will send her to her grave."

"Maybe I will then."

"Leave her alone. No one was supposed to know."

"Just an entire staff of gabbing girls," Tyra said, following him down to the field. She reached for him, giving him a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. She stilled for a moment, her lips brushing over his. Nothing romantic about it, she told herself. "If you ever need to talk…"

"I know where you are, got it." He kissed her cheek and let go of her, returning to the field.

Tyra leaned against the barrier between the field and the bleachers, her arms over her chest. She looked up at the sky and then towards the entrance from the concession area, seeing the boys walking back to her with arms full of candy, popcorn, and hot dogs. "Oh my goodness," she laughed, helping Nicky before he stumbled with all his. "You guys are going to be so sick." Please don't get sick, she prayed, please don't get sick.

"Aunt Tyra can you teach me football?" Stevie requested, climbing up to their seats. He plunked down beside her, biting into his hot dog and squirting ketchup over his shirt. He didn't care, waving it in the air when the team took the field again. "Go Panthers!" he shouted, bits of hot dog spraying out.

Tyra wiped at his shirt. It was a goner. She sighed, grabbing a bite of hot dog. "Okay," she said. I can't believe I'm going to do this. She pointed the field, one arm around Nicky while Ricky stood at her feet, not wanting to sit down. "So the Panthers are in white, see them? Okay, so they are the offense right now. See that kid crouched there? He's the center, he's going to spike the ball to the quarterback. The quarterback is like the captain. In fact, he is the captain."

"Was Uncle Tim quarterback?"

"Oh God no," she laughed. The very idea of that was hilarious. "Tim was a running back. See the two lined up there and that one that's already running? Those are running backs. They carry the ball down the sidelines. They run the ball."

"Who is that?"

"That's a wide receiver."

"Was Daddy a quarterback?"

Tyra sighed. She wasn't sure what Billy was, but she was fairly sure he wasn't a quarterback. She had the sudden image of Billy trying to woo Mindy with tales of their time together in high school, where she skipped most of the time and he only went so he could be eligible for football. "Actually I think Daddy played defense," she thought. She thought he might have been a cornerback. She'd have to ask Tim…although…she ran her tongue over her teeth, seeing an opportunity. "You know you'll have to ask Uncle Tim."

Stevie nodded, filing that away. "I will."

Ricky held up some popcorn. "For you," he said.

At that moment Nicky chose to also give her a pretzel with cheese, but didn't bother to inform her, so it just hit against her chest. He giggled. "Messy." She swooped them both into her arms, kissing them and laughing. She couldn't even get angry about it anymore.


	12. This is the Hardest Job in the World

**A/N: **Hopefully people are still reading this. Sorry about the delay in updating, I just haven't had time to write. Thanks for those who are still sticking it with it.

* * *

_**12.**_ _**...This is the Hardest Job in the World**_

I hate waiting.

Tim sat in the back of his truck, playing on his phone, while Stevie sat beside him, coloring in his book. He checked a text from over an hour ago. _Stuck in Austin. Plane Problems. _It was about a 45-minute flight from Austin to Dillon versus about five hours in a car. At the rate this was going, she'd probably be able to get there by rental car before the plane was ready to take off. "Want to get something to drink?" he asked, glancing at his nephew.

Stevie set a crayon in the book. He sighed dramatically. "I guess."

"You guess?"

"Okay."

He wrapped his arm around Stevie. The kid was getting better, if you could ever get better from losing your parents. Like how Jason dealt with his injury but what was 'get better'? This was going to be a pretty shitty couple of weeks. He rested his head on Stevie's, who leaned closer to him. "What do you want for Christmas, kid?" he murmured. Maybe we can get you something to at least try to make up for this whole thing. Not that there was a lot of money.

In fact, he'd have to talk to Tyra about her plans. She needed to start pulling more weight in terms of the finances. She might be around the kids a lot, but he was the one making the most dough and she just grabbed it and disappeared with it. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Kids were freaking expensive. They had to take Ricky to the ER a few weeks before with a raging ear infection and he had to pay $500 right up front. Then Stevie had all kinds of fees and stuff for school.

He had just turned five around Thanksgiving. That was an odd time for him. Tyra thought he was running off to the Landing Strip or something, but he just…she was never around. She didn't really seemed to get that every Thanksgiving he got a little down. That was the anniversary of his big rift with Billy, when he went to jail. Yeah, it was also Stevie's birthday, but it was also just a time when he got down. It would pass, like anything else.

"I don't know," Stevie said. His eyes widened and he dropped his book to the side. "Oh my Gosh! Uncle Tim!"

He gaped at Stevie, playing with the drama. "Oh my Gosh, what Stevie?!"

A dramatic look crossed Stevie's face and he grabbed at the collar of Tim's jacket, grabbing him and standing up, eyes wide. "Uncle Tim. We…we…" Tim waited, feeling a bit nervous about whatever had Stevie this upset. Stevie sobbed out. "We didn't tell Santa we moved!"

Oh geez, was that it? Tim tried to keep the relief off his face. He knew this was a big deal and lowered Stevie down into his lap. "Well then," he said, tickling at his ribs. Stevie giggled, kicking his feet. He laughed, lifting Stevie off his lap and set him on the ground, hopping off the truck's back hatch. "We'll just have to write him a letter. Give me that paper." He took a piece of paper that Stevie ripped from his book and then took a crayon, beginning to write 'Dear Santa', when Stevie tugged on his jacket. "Yes?"

"I want to do it."

Okay then. Tim took his hand, walking away from the truck to the airport, taking a seat on a bench in a passenger waiting area. He lifted Stevie closer to him, his arm around the little boy, who began to write, in shaky block letters, what he wanted to say, with Tim directing him on letters and spelling. He smiled sideways at his nephew. The kid just wanted people. He was a really good kid. "I hope I don't screw you up," he whispered.

Stevie smiled at him. "You can't Uncle Tim."

I can't screw you up? I'm very sure that I can. Thank God for Tyra. At least she knew the kid thing. Maybe it was her woman genes. He sucked at this. He cleared his throat. "You done with the letter? We can mail it on the way home."

"I don't got an envelope."

"We'll stop at the store and get one for you." His phone buzzed in his pocket. With baited breath, he glanced at the bubble that appeared over his screensaver, which was of the three boys sitting in Panther uniforms. _I'm here! Come get me! _He stood up, lifting Stevie off the bench. "Showtime, Sailor."

"I'm not a Sailor, I'm Stevie. I'm a Panther."

You will be a Panther one day, but I'm not ready for that just yet. He knew it was about time to start signing Stevie up for next year's Pee Wee class. It was going to happen. He didn't know why he felt against it. He held Stevie's hand, walking into the airport. It was a tiny little terminal, with some of the major carriers flying around Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, those sorts of places. He went over to the gate where arriving passengers came through, squeezing Stevie harder.

"Ouch, Uncle Tim that hurts."

"Sorry. Hey, look at that plane there." He let go of Stevie, watching him run to the window. It must be a boy thing. They all had to be fascinated at some point in their lives with airplanes and the concept of flying. He smiled, his hands on his hips, too busy watching Stevie to notice that someone had walked right up beside him until he felt something tugging at his shirt. "Hey," he said, thinking it was some stupid person. He grinned wide, his arms going out. "Hey."

Lyla returned the grin, her arms wrapping tight around him. "Hey you."

"Miss Lyla!"

She immediately let go of him, shoving a heavy tote bag at his chest as Stevie ran at her and leaped up into her arms. "Hey little guy! How are you! I didn't know you were coming. Why aren't you in school, huh?" She glared at him. "Why isn't he in school?"

"They got out early for Christmas break." He took her roller bag, dragging it and her tote with him as they left the airport. He was so happy she was here. This might make things easier. Well, he knew they'd make things easier. He shoved her bags into the back of his truck, opening up the passenger side door. She helped Stevie up so he could sit on his booster seat in the middle between them. Once she turned around a little, he grabbed her quickly, planting a kiss hard on her mouth.

She gasped, her head falling back slightly in surprise when he instantly pulled back. Then her surprise softened. "You need to get a more family friendly truck. With a backseat."

"God, I've got you nagging me now?"

"Does Tyra nag?"

"All the time," Stevie grumbled. He held up his book. "Look Miss Lyla, it's your book."

Lyla took the book from him and opened the cover. Tim almost crashed the car. He hit the brake hard at a light, sending them all surging forward and snapping their seatbelts against their chests. Lyla pressed her hand to the dashboard, glaring sideways at him. "What the heck Tim?"

"The book," he blurted. No one looked at that book. Not even the psychologist. He blinked; Stevie didn't seem to realize it and Lyla didn't know the significance. He cleared his throat. Let's see how far this takes us. "Never mind. Sorry. Stevie what do you want for dinner?"

"Chinese."

"Too bad, we're having pizza."

"Why'd you ask?" Stevie complained. He picked at the top of his shoe, looking over at him again. "Uncle Tim?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Are we moving?"

Lyla looked up from flicking through the book. He glanced at her and then to Stevie. "No," he drawled. Let's see where this one goes. Because he was pretty sure that he hadn't said anything that would let Stevie think they were moving. He frowned a little. "Why?"

Stevie shrugged. "Aunt Tyra said she might move."

"Oh?" Lyla said.

"Yeah. To a city."

Probably somewhere nearby. She was getting cramped, he thought. That's what she complained about at least. How cramped she was in a house full of boys. She needed some space. He'd suggested she go stay with her mom for a few days. She hadn't taken that seriously, but he didn't know why. He was pretty serious about it. He could do without Tyra reorganizing everything in his house the way she liked it. It was his house. "What city?" he asked, humoring Stevie. Maybe he was making it up. He'd started doing that lately. Something they needed to talk to the psychologist about, but he'd let Tyra do that too. Just because he supported Stevie talking to the psychologist didn't mean he wanted to do it.

Stevie pulled at the top of his shoe. "I need new shoes."

"You need to get boots is what you need, like a real Texan." He repeated his question. "What city?"

"Um…Chi..chi…"

"Chicago?" he supplied, his eyes widening briefly. The hell? Was she seriously thinking of moving there? Why? How?

Stevie nodded, picking at his nose now. "Yup." He sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He obliged Lyla when she removed a Kleenex from her purse, handing it to him. He blew his nose, giggling. "Green."

"You feeling okay?" Lyla asked, her hand going to his forehead.

"Sniffles."

Probably a cold. Tim no longer cared when they came home sniffling and blowing green snot. Sometimes they bitched about sore throats or hurt ears. Until they had a fever going, he no longer worried. Otherwise all he and Tyra would be doing was drugging them with Dimeatap and Robutussin and all other matter of children's cold and cough syrups. "Talk to me about Tyra."

"Don't push it," Lyla mumbled, as Stevie began to talk about how at the school Christmas party, a little girl named Alyssa ate six cookies and he really liked that. Whatever works for you, he thought, looking at Lyla, who just kept asking questions, genuinely interested in Stevie.

For the first time in months, he thought about the Baby. With a capital 'B' because that's what it was to him. The Baby. He wasn't sure where babies went when they weren't born, but he liked to think that it was waiting around somewhere. Wherever that was. Maybe the same place where Mindy and Billy were, if you believed in that sort of thing. He wasn't sure what he believed. He glanced at Lyla again. She was so good with kids. Too good, sometimes. Maybe she'd be one of those women who was never meant to be a mother; they just mothered every other child out there. The idea was depressing, so he tried not to dwell on it.

They stopped behind Tyra's Jeep. That thing is a POS. I need to at least find a guy to give it a new paint job. It was an ugly Army green. He had no idea where she bought it, but she paid way too much for it. "We're home," he yelled, pushing the door open. "Hey Rick-Nick." He'd taken to greeting the twins at the same time. Saved arguments when he said one name first.

"Uncle Tim!" they both shouted. Ricky ran to him, holding up a piece of paper. They were sitting in paper in their cordoned off play area. He picked it up, looking down at a letter from the University of Chicago. He'd read it later, shoving it into his pocket. "Messy," Ricky announced.

"Very messy, let's clean it up, huh?" He left them to clean up, walking into the ktihcen, where Tyra had her back to him, talking on the phone.

"I'll call you later. Yeah. Well Tim's girlfriend is coming in for Christmas so I'll have to deal with all that crap. I know, he gets pathetic when she shows up." I get pathetic? He cleared his throat loudly, sending Tyra jumping up and around, eyes wide. "Uh, call you back Landry. Yeah he's right in front of me. Bye." She set her phone down, forcing a smile. "Hey Tim."

"Hello Tyra."

"Lyla."

"Tyra."

He waited, before smiling briefly. "Pathetic?"

She waved her hand, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, you know it's true. Lyla, where'd you come from today? Nigeria or something?"

"Sierra Leone, actually." She tossed her hair out of her eyes. She smiled briefly. "I'm getting my Master's at Vanderbilt, but I'm part of a program with the Peace Corps. They'll pay my loans and I get hands on training." She looked at the living room and smiled again at Tyra. "How are things around here?"

Tyra opened her mouth to speak, but Tim wanted to get something out in the open. "Stevie let Lyla look at the book," he said, immediately meeting her gaze. She gaped. "Yeah."

Lyla shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"He doesn't let anyone look in the book," Tyra hissed. She leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, checking on the boys. They were all engaged in various levels of destruction on a Lego Tower they'd built the other night. She turned around, her arms crossing, walking close to Lyla. "What's in it? Bad things? Good things?"

Yeah. What's in it, he thought, but said nothing. He knew Lyla was confused, but maybe she wouldn't say anything. Unfortunately, Lyla knew what they were playing at. "I'm not betraying his confidence, but there's nothing in there you both need to be worried about." She paused. "He's a dreamer. It's his dreams."

"Bad dreams?" Tyra pressed.

"Nothing bad, I promise you. He's a good artist though." She went to the fridge, taking out a bottle of water and cracked the cap. She sipped and shrugged. "It's nothing to worry about, trust me. I would let you know if it was." She tossed her hair out of her eyes again. It was shorter than it had been last time, he thought. At the funeral. It was really short, actually. She pushed her fingers through it. "So when does he start football?"

Tyra cleared her throat obviously. He met Lyla's dark gaze. "He doesn't," he said, his words clipped. He turned around and left the kitchen, going outside. A few minutes later, Lyla was beside him, walking out to the dock. He wasn't going to get into this with her, so he just decided to end it now. "He's not playing football yet. I can't…not yet Lyla. It's too soon."

She kept walking, her arms crossed over her chest. They stopped at the edge of the dock, overlooking the small pond in his backyard. "Too soon Tim?" Her voice had a softness to it; he always liked that. Except when she was being serious. That's when it had an air of disdain to it. He flinched slightly; you don't know what I'm going through. What I've been going through. "When will it ever be soon enough?"

"You don't understand."

"No," she said. He hated when she agreed. She sighed, looking into the water with him. Maybe he should put some fish in it. Get the kids little fishing poles. She looked back up at him, quiet again. "Are you sleeping?"

Was he sleeping? Only all the time. He was always tired. "I never get time, but when I do, I sleep like a baby." He smiled briefly, looking away again. It sucked. It just…some days he didn't think about Billy and then all he could ever think about was Billy for a few days after that. Saw him everywhere. Heard him everywhere. He even picked up the phone to call him once, only to relive everything again when he realized that his brother was dead. He closed his eyes. Just tell her Riggins. It's not like she wasn't going to find out. He sighed, his eyes still closed. "Tyra thinks I go to the Landing Strip. Even asked around. I don't come home sometimes until late."

Lyla waited a moment. "Are you out drinking?"

"Sometimes, but not where you think." I have to tell someone. It was eating him up. Lyla wouldn't judge. Lyla would be…fine, he'd tell her. He cleared his throat. "I told Tyra to give me some time. I'd tell her, but…feels stupid." He didn't expect her to ask why it was stupid. She wouldn't ask. He liked this type of talking better, where she said nothing and asked nothing, just stood there and listened if he wanted to talk but wouldn't make a fuss if he didn't talk. He sighed. "I go to the cemetery."

"Tim."

"Don't…" he trailed off. Sometimes he went to the cemetery and just sat in his truck, looking at the single headstone. Or he'd just…he'd stand there, looking down at it. He closed his eyes once more, gasping. "It hurts, Lyla. Stevie wants to play football? I can't teach him football!"

"You're a coach for a football team, Tim."

"No," he said. "I don't know, I…not like that!" It wasn't that. He couldn't explain it, just that he could not under any circumstances teach Stevie right now. Just not now. It wasn't time yet. He couldn't do it yet. "I can't." And I'm not talking about this anymore. He reached for her, pulling her against him, brushing his lips over hers. "Stay with me tonight," he mumbled against her mouth as she wrapped her arms around him, returning the kiss. That was something. He wasn't sure if she was for this, based on some of their phone calls.

She shook her head, but didn't let go of him. "What about the boys?" she mumbled, arching her neck as he kissed across her jaw and down to the crook of it, where she had a particularly sensitive spot.

"I have a lock on my door."

"And Tyra? What about her?"

"She's with Landry." Or not. He wasn't sure. They were just friends. Maybe. He looked at her; she wasn't buying it. He felt a prickle in the back of his neck. "I'm not with Tyra," he murmured. He frowned slightly. "And I haven't been." I've been faithful to you, he felt like saying. That would sound stupid though. They weren't together. She was clear on that. He was pretty clear on it, depending on the time of day. Their timing sucked.

She pressed her hand over his heart, waiting a moment before she looked back up, her eyes shining. Damnit, don't cry. "It'd be a lot easier if you were," she mumbled, her arms going back around him, her chin on his shoulder. He felt her deflate against him and then her shoulders began to shake. He didn't know why she was crying or what had upset her so much, but something was on her mind. He held her even tighter. "I miss you, but I don't know why it's so much," she mumbled at some point as he held her, standing on the end of the dock.

His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. I miss you too. "I don't know what I'm doing," he gasped. I want you here. I need you. It was Christmas…he wasn't a fan of the holidays and never had been. They sucked in his house. Sometimes they weren't any different than the other days, he just didn't have football to distract him. He'd go to Jason's house and see how perfect it all was. It just made him wonder what the hell was wrong with his life.

I want my brother. It was so…lonely. All he had was the boys. Tyra had her own shit. I want Billy. I want someone to actually talk to that wasn't a damn headstone. Or who wasn't five and had his own issues. Lyla pulled back briefly. "They're doing so well Tim," she whispered, kissing him again. She nodded, encouraging him as he shook his head. "They are…Stevie's doing so well and the twins look so happy. Whatever you and Tyra are doing, it's working…it's working."

It might have been working, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't how it should be. "We're not their parents. I can't teach Stevie to throw a football. Billy has to do it!" he exclaimed. I can't do that. It has to be him. That's what fathers did. I'm not a father. I'm the stupid uncle who can let them crash at my house when they get too drunk or have a fight with Billy or Mindy or…or anything but actually raise them. He gripped her even tighter. "I never could do it."

Her nails dug into his shoulderblades. "Yes, you would. You've done it now."

"Tyra does…does all of it."

She brushed her nose against his, whispering. "Well if you know that then maybe you should step forward a bit. Give her a break, Tim."

"I can't let her go back to Chicago."

She paused. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "You guys have a routine. Maybe once you get into a routine…she can go back just to finish her degree."

And leave me with three boys!? No fucking way. He was already shaking his head. "No. I can't do it by myself."

She ran her fingers over his cheek, whispering. "Think about it." She waited a moment before her voice softened. "I'm almost done with my Peace Corps tenure…two years. About to get my Master's. Pretty crazy." She kissed him lightly again. "Show me Billy."

That's my place. No on is allowed there. "I can't."

"Take me, Tim. Show me where you go. Let someone in."

If I go with you I'm going to fall apart and I can't do that. He looked over to the house, swallowing hard. This Christmas was going to suck so bad. "I miss him," he whispered. I want him back so much. We ask the twins what they want for Christmas, has anyone asked me? I just want my brother back. He wrapped himself tighter into her, mumbled. "I want him back. I just want him back." He'd never thought this much about it until she showed up. Stupid Lyla. Always making him do stuff like this.

She pushed her forehead into his chest. "I want him back too."

Really? "Why?" he whispered.

Lyla pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes. She suddenly smiled, her eyes brightening. "Why wouldn't I Tim? You loved him. He drove me insane, I never thought highly of him, but…but you loved him so much and…and I'd want him back for that." She shook her head, her voice dropping. "But he's not coming back and neither is Mindy. We've had this conversation Tim. It's been almost five months since they died. The kids are doing wonderfully given that tragedy. You and Tyra have it sort of figured out."

Figured out? We have no idea what we're doing. "I almost forgot Stevie at school the other day." He quirked his lip in a smile, whispering. "And Tyra actually forgot the twins at the store."

She arched an eyebrow. "Buddy once left me in the dealership for an entire night."

"Really?"

"Probably not the best example of a good parent, but in the end he loves us. I think that's what matters the most, even if he has a funny way of showing it, but he does love us so much." She stroked at his shoulder. "And you love the boys. That's what matters the most. You love them and you will do everything you can for them. You even agreed to let Stevie go to a psychologist. You think stuff like that is silly."

"It is silly."

"Well you still let your opinion go for the sake of Stevie."

I still can't throw him a football. Not yet. He took her hand, walking away from the dock, his shoulder bumping into hers. He looked down at her. "Stay the night, please? Before you go to Buddy's."

She rested her head on his shoulder before turning into him and nodding, her lips brushing his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay. One night." That usually gets us into trouble, he thought. Our one nights have a habit of resurfacing some time later. She blinked quickly, tears appearing again. What's wrong? He frowned, concerned. She took a deep breath, the tears trickling away. "Sorry…I'll tell you later."

"Are you okay?"

"Depends what you mean by that, but I'll be fine. Sorry…" she kissed him again, distracting him from her crying.

"Ew gross! Uncle Tim is kissing Miss Lyla!"

He broke away, laughing and turning to see Stevie making gagging motions with his hand and throw while the twins mimicked puking. They'd probably learned that from Stevie. Lyla flushed pink, breaking way from him quickly. He didn't care. He walked to the porch, grabbing Stevie and lifting him in the air with a squeal. "One of these days you're not gonna' have that opinion of girls."

"Girls are stinky."

"Excuse me?" Tyra said, walking out of the house. She pushed at his shoulder. "Go wash your hands for dinner."

"I don't wanna'."

Tyra sighed, closing her eyes. They always got into this before dinner or bedtime. Stevie just didn't want to do what she asked. He'd defy her. Storm off. Usually Tim didn't say anything. Maybe he'd tell Stevie to listen to Tyra, but he wasn't sure what all he was supposed to do after that. Then Tyra would get angry at him. He looked at Lyla, who nodded to Stevie. Tyra turned around, fully expecting him to say nothing, he was sure. He pointed to the house. "Go wash your hands," he ordered, his voice firm.

The order had Stevie, the twins, and Tyra all looking at him, confused. He repeated the order, more firmer this time. I sound like my father, he thought, shuddering. Walt Riggins was never one to give orders nicely. He said it once and Billy and him snapped to, running off to get whatever had been requested. He flinched again at the way it sounded. I don't like being like this. Lyla rested her hand in the small of his back, supporting him, quite literally. Stevie looked at him, little dark brown eyes sparkling. He swallowed, a muscle moving in his throat as he debated whether to challenge this. He finally broke the gaze, admitting defeat, and trudged into the house.

Once the twins had followed to do the same, after Tyra asked them to wash their hands as well, she rounded on him. "What are you doing?" she snapped.

He blinked. "Helping."

"You undermined my authority with them!"

"I helped you with them, they don't listen toy ou because you won't punish them when they don't listen!"

"And like you would actually punish them!"

He swallowed hard. Well…he took a deep breath, steeling himself against Tyra's wrath. "Are you moving back to Chicago?" he asked, changing the subject entirely.

She drew away from him. She immediately looked away and then up again. Her lying tic. "No," she mumbled. She shook her head. "Why?"

He took the letter from his pocket, shoving it against her chest. "Because of this."

"Are you going through my things!?"

"The twins had it." He looked at Lyla and back to Tyra. I'm not going to deal with either of them right now. He shook his head at Tyra. She looked horrified, but she wasn't denying it either. He walked by her. I thought we were in this together. He opened the microwave, where he knew the bowl of ready-to-eat mac and cheese was already sitting. It wasn't like they had a lot of cooking options at the ready between either of them. He ladled mac and cheese into three cereal bowls, sliding it onto the table in front of them.

Stevie shoved his fork into the bowl, while the twins clumsily began to eat theirs. He looked over again, his tiny voice sounding even tinier with the fear that seemed attached to it. "Are you mad at me Uncle Tim?"

Aw, shit. He closed his eyes briefly. "I'm not mad at you," he whispered.

"You yelled."

"I didn't yell." He sat down next to Stevie, whispering. "You have to listen to Aunt Tyra, kid. And me. The first time. Okay?"

"Okay." The kid was five. Tim didn't expect the lesson to be fully learned right that instant. Stevie munched on the mac and cheese for a few minutes before he looked over again. "Is Aunt Tyra leaving?"

I don't know. He shook his head. "No. She's not leaving."

"Is Miss Lyla leaving?"

He nodded. "Yes. Miss Lyla is going to leave after Christmas."

Stevie looked down at bowl. He ate some more mac and cheese, looking up when Tyra came back over and sat across from him. Lyla was nowhere to be seen. He mumbled an apology, which Tyra accepted, patting his hand in reassurance that she wasn't angry at him. Tim leaned back in his chair; he had to find something to eat himself and it wasn't going to be mac and cheese. Maybe Garrity wanted to go out. He was about to ask Tyra what she wanted when Nicky looked up from his booster seat. And said the word that Tim had dreaded ever hearing.

"Mama." They all looked at him, even Stevie. Nicky waved his spoon, pointing at Tyra. "Mama, more."

Tim's heart thudded in his chest. He watched Tyra; the emotions crossed her face, ranging between horror to happiness to horror again. She pushed up, shaking. "Tyra," he whispered, reaching for her, but she shook his arm away. He stood up, following her to the front door. "Tyra, no!"

"Get away from me!" she exclaimed, grabbing her keys and coat, whipping open the front door and running out.

He turned around, looking down the hall at the kitchen table, where all three boys were sitting. Nicky's lower lip quivered and he burst into tears, sobbing for his mother, which got Ricky going. Stevie just looked shocked. He went back to them, lifting Nicky up and soothing him, bouncing him against his hip as Lyla came into the room. "Help," he mumbled.

"I heard." She took Ricky from his chair, looking down at Stevie. "Do you want to say anything Stevie?"

Stevie whipped his head sideways in 'no' and stood up, taking his empty bowl to the sink. He climbed up on his kitchen stool, looking over the top of the breakfast bar counter. He blinked again. "Aunt Tyra's not Mommy," he said. It was very clear. He scowled at his brother. "Stupid Nicky! That's not Mommy!"

"Stevie, stop," he ordered, but this time the kid didn't listen, jumping off the stool and running upstairs, shouting that Tyra wasn't Mommy and he wanted his real Mommy back. He looked at Lyla, helpless. She just shook her head. There was nothing they could do right now. He closed his eyes, his chin resting against Nicky's, trying to stop him from crying his lungs out.

As upsetting as it was, he had an odd thought. He was just glad they didn't say 'Dada' because he wasn't sure what he'd do when that day happened.


	13. Tami and Eric Will Help

_**13. ...Tami or Eric Will Help**_

Where the hell are you going, she wondered. She glanced at the speedometer on her Jeep. She was inching towards eighty on the back Texas roads. All she needed was to take a turn the wrong way and she would be joining her sister wherever that was. Or pass the wrong speed trap and then her ticket would probably be about three times the speed she was going. She eased off, pulling the Jeep to the side of the road and smacked her hazards on.

Her forehead fell to the steering wheel. Mama. He called her Mama. She fumbled beside her for her phone, punching in numbers into the flat screen. It rang a few times. _Hi, this is Julie, leave a message… _"Ugh," she exclaimed, hurriedly hitting a few more buttons. _You've reached Landry Clarke, lead singer and guitarist for Crucifictorious, leave a message and if you are a music producer or industry representative, I will return your call immediately. Everyone else will be answered in the order I receive them…_

Your message is too long, she felt like screaming, but she disconnected before leaving a message. She picked up the phone again, slowly typing in numbers. Please, she begged. Please, please, please…

"Hello?"

She gasped, covering her mouth. Thank God. "Coach Taylor?" she said, tears flooding her voice. She sniffed. "Um…I…I called Mrs. Taylor's phone…" It didn't really matter. It was a Taylor, at any rate.

"She left her phone with me on accident." Eric paused. "Tyra, are you alright? Did something happen?"

Did something happen? She sobbed, unable to stop it. "My sister's dead, that's what's happened!" She heard silence on the other end. Oh great, she terrified Coach Taylor. She sniffed. "And now no one is around to help me!"

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the side of the road behind Tim's house," she cried.

"Don't drive anywhere, stay put."

She snorted. "You gonna' fly from Philly?"

"We're in Dillon. I'm not too far away, I was on my way to see him. Stay there." The line went dead. She looked at her phone. That was weird. Coach Taylor coming to help her? She didn't remember the last time that happened. It was always Mrs. Taylor and maybe she dragged Coach along for the ride. Of course, she'd never had to call Eric for help. That was always Tim. Even then she wasn't sure Tim actually asked for help.

That was the thing, wasn't it? Tim never asked for help. Tim just stood there and everyone went to help him. He had Lyla and Jason and Coach. He even had Landry sticking up for him. What did he do? "He just sits around, he goes to work, and he doesn't come home late," she yelled. Meanwhile she was cleaning the house and making dinners and being with the kids. She was always there and what if she wanted to go back to Chicago?

I just want my life to myself again, she inwardly screamed. It was one phone call to Chicago, to activate her slot again. She was planning it…she hadn't gotten to that point where she had a foolproof plan. Tim needed to wake up. He got all bitchy about her spending his paychecks, well he wasn't going to buy what they needed to buy, now was he? He would blow it on junk food and booze and toys for the boys. He never disciplined them, no matter how hard she asked. If Mindy thought they were going to end up together because of this thing, she had another thing coming. They would kill each other before that happened.

I mean…Tim bought a fucking horse not a week after she'd been gone. It was kind of scary to think what he could do if she actually relocated to Chicago. It wasn't going to be for forever. Her plan was to double her courseload and then request the ability to work on her thesis in Texas. If they let her do that, she'd be able to finish her Master's in only two semesters as opposed to four. If she really got stressed, she could stretch it to three semesters, spend the fourth in Texas doing her thesis and externship, maybe with social services, and she'd be fine.

She held her head in her hand, her eyes closed. Mama. He called me mama. It would make sense, I mean…fuck, it was bound to happen, but…she didn't expect it to be so soon. I didn't expect it, she thought, horrified. Nicky called me Mom. I am his mother, but I'm not his mother and I won't…I won't be that. She swallowed hard. I'm crazy Aunt Tyra. She looked in the rearview mirror, seeing a shiny white Explorer pull up behind her. It was clearly a rental car; any vehicle in Texas usually was covered in dust before too long. She climbed out, turning and wrapped her arms around her as Eric hopped out of the front of the Explorer. "I'm sorry," she blurted out, unsure what to say to him. She looked at her car and to the fields around them. It was really the middle of nowhere. "I'm sorry to do this, I just…I didn't know where to go and I thought I'd talk to…to Mrs. Taylor…" She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "You're in Dillon?"

"Yeah, Tami's with Gracie and Julie in Austin with Lorraine. They're visiting an Alzheimer's specialist," he said, his voice soft. She forgot about Lorraine. God, my life is so selfish sometimes, she thought. He cocked his head a little. "Matt's with Lance."

Landry. She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"What's going on Tyra?" He waited a moment; she didn't answer. He gestured to the Explorer. "Get inside. The wind's picking up. I'll take you to get a cup of coffee or something. Or do you want to go back home?"

"Tim's there."

"Ah." Eric seemed instantly uncomfortable. He reached to fiddle with the heater and air conditioner, unsure which one he wanted. He ended up just turning it off and lowering the windows. He cleared his throat and shifted in the driver's seat. "Are you…problems?"

She smiled at his discomfort. "No, Tim's in a…long term thing with Lyla. Whether he knows it or not."

"I was surprised she came back for the funeral."

"Me too." Lyla never cared about Billy or Mindy. She was there for Tim. So was Jason. She looked out the window, smiling a little. "You never got involved in our love lives in high school Coach T. I'm not going to get you started in that now."

"I appreciate that," he said, relieved. He shifted again. "How are you with the boys? How are they? Tami hasn't spoken about them in some time. Stevie still going to the therapist?"

"Yeah." She closed her eyes, whispering. "Nicky called me his mother today."

Eric stopped relatively hard at a crossing. If they turned left, they went back to Tim's house. My house, she thought idly, even though she didn't pay for anything in it. Well, she did, but she just took Tim's paychecks to do it. Her minimal pay from the middle school part-time gig was pretty much just pocket money. Christmas was going to be tight this year, she thought, sighing. Unless Tim took on a few extra jobs. She'd been searching in his 'office', if you could call it that, for the immunization records for the boys. She'd gotten a phone call from the preschool she was thinking of shifting the twins to and they needed them, when she'd located a few letters from the Dillon Police Department. It had freaked the hell out of her, wondering if Tim was getting mixed up in some bad shit, but given the tone of the letters and the repeated requests, it had seemed that Tim wasn't just gifted with dismantling and putting together cars, he was pretty good at coming up with his own way of demolishing just about anything. The cops wanted him on retainer to break into places, hotwire cars, that sort of thing.

The money involved would probably be decent, she'd thought at the time. He could set his own rates and if they really wanted him, he could make bank. She just hadn't been able to talk to him about it. What with three boys running around and always needing something. She leaned back in the seat, realizing that they'd turned right, away from the route to the house. "I should have expected it," she muttered.

"You may have expected it Tyra, but no one would ever expect you to be okay with it," Eric said, choosing his words carefully. She always liked that about him. He seemed to always think before he spoke. Very methodical. Very thoughtful. "What did Tim do?"

"Nicky started crying. He's dealing with the aftermath but it's fine because he has Lyla there." She'd been watching them from the window while she put together dinner. Lyla would know where Tim went most nights. He'd slowed it down a bit, hadn't been gone as much. It still didn't help her in the grand scheme of things. There were three kids and a damn horse. At least Tim took care of the horse. She wasn't dealing with that monster.

Eric glanced at her. "You know Tyra, the boys are very lucky to have you."

How many times had she heard that? From people she loved and people she had no idea who they were. They all said it. They're lucky. "They should have their real mother," she said, staring out the window as the fields began to turn into houses and stores.

"Well Tyra they don't. You can't change that. You're doing the best you can."

"And what am I supposed to do now?" she said, looking at Eric. He gave her a look that showed he had no idea either. She didn't even think Tami could help with this. She sniffed. "I don't want to be their mother, I want to stay their aunt."

"Then correct him. He's two, right?"

"Almost three," she murmured. Not really almost. They still had about three months before their birthday, but much like Stevie, the twins were pretty advanced. It seemed that intelligence had skipped a Riggins and Collette generation and now resulted in three little boys with high IQs.

Eric chuckled. "Julie kept calling Shelly, Mama. She called everyone that. Tami, her aunt, the lady that watched her sometimes…every woman was Mama. Until one day she looked at Tami and called her Mommy. Very clear. She was three. Took her three years." He cleared his throat, slightly awkward again. "The thing is Tyra, kids are kids and they're gonna' learn what they think and it's up to you to teach them everything else. You may not be able to change them, but you can help influence. That's the best we can do as parents."

I'm a parent. He used 'we.' She sniffed again. "I want to move back to Chicago, to finish my degree," she whispered. She looked sideways. "I'd be…abandoning them."

"You'd be finishing your degree. Do you intend to never speak to them again while you're in Chicago?"

"No!"

"Do you intend to never return to the boys after you go to Chicago?"

"No way."

He looked at her. "Tim's parents abandoned him, Tyra. They left and never came back. That's abandonment. You wouldn't be doing that. You'd be doing something for yourself and never feel guilty for that."

She threw his words back at him. "But I'm a parent now. You can't do that when you have kids."

He looked at her for a brief moment before he smiled, turning back to the road. He parked the Explorer in front of a local coffee shop she didn't ever remember being in Dillon. Showed how distracted she could get. He put the car into gear and turned the engine off, turning sideways to face her. "You can be selfish, but you can do things for yourself. There's a difference. Especially when you have kids."

I guess I'm having trouble seeing that difference. She climbed out of the car, walking into the coffee shop. She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing sideways at him again. "Yeah but Coach, I don't think Tim will see it that way." And it still didn't help her with leaving the boys when they were thinking of her as their mother.

Eric chuckled, walking up to the counter to get his coffee. "Tim will understand."

"I don't think he will. He still disappears and he…he just doesn't get involved unless it's fun stuff."

"Tim will be fine. You know him well enough, right?"

"Right," she murmured. Not as much as I'd like to. Or thought I did. Didn't know about his mother the entire time we were dating. Something told her that Lyla Garrity couldn't say that. She pushed her hair behind her ear, looking at the barista. She shrugged. "Just a cup of coffee, thanks." She just wanted something to hold right now.

They paid and took a seat outside. She uncovered her coffee, stirring in cream. "This is going to be a crappy Christmas," she mumbled, putting the top back on it. She looked at Coach, who seemed sympathetic. She smirked. "You want to come to Christmas dinner? I'm sure it will be great. Mac and cheese and Chinese food."

He smiled briefly. "We can work something out I'm sure. That doesn't include that."

She was sure they could as well. She smiled again, her voice soft. "How is Philly?" Let's not talk about me Coach. For once in my life when I'm with you or Mrs. Taylor let's not talk about me. Her eyes brightened slightly. "How is Gracie?"

"Well she's six now. Acts like she's twenty-six." He sipped his coffee. "Philly is Philly. Football isn't the culture, but the kids are good." He chuckled. "I hear Tim isn't half bad as a coach. How'd Buddy Garrity swing that on him?"

"Guilted him."

"We've all be there."

"Yeah well there was the baby, so that got Tim…" she trailed off, realizing her slip-up. Her eyes widened slightly and she looked up, seeing Eric's frown. She cleared her throat, taking a big gulp of hot coffee. Shit Tyra. What the hell did you do that for? She looked up at him. He was just looking at her. "Um…so Philly? I bet you…you have a lot…lot of history there…"

Eric kept looking at her. "Baby?" he questioned.

She looked out to the street, waiting a moment. I'm never getting out of this alive. "You can't tell anyone," she said. He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. She chuckled. "Coach this is one of those things. You either know it or you don't." He didn't object further, so she continued. "Basically Tim and Lyla were going to have a baby, but she lost it. Tim feels guilty somehow. You know how he is. She lost it like two weeks before the accident. Tim got three kids instead of one."

"Good Lord."

"Yeah well…" she trailed off, taking another sip of coffee. She looked over at him again. Coach was always very supportive. She wasn't sure what else to say. She sighed. "So should I go to Chicago?"

"Only you can make that decision Tyra."

"What would Tami Taylor do?" she asked, only slightly joking.

It pulled a smile up on Eric's lips. He turned his coffee cup around, his soft Texan drawl speaking straight through to her. "Tami Taylor would say that you need to do what is in the best interest of all involved. You have three boys, whether you want them to call you mama or not, you have three boys. They count on you to make decisions that will be in their best interest. If that means leaving for a few months in Chicago, then that means that. If it means staying in Dillon and being miserable…than means that. Either way Tim will be there for them. He has his own support system."

We're just so lonely, she thought sadly. It was the two of them while their friends lived their lives elsewhere. The only one in common was Landry but he was probably going to make it big somewhere. One could only hope at least. She held her head in her hand, twirling her cup of coffee around on the tabletop. "We can't live together forever, Coach." That was another thing they had to face. At some point she would like to meet someone. A real guy, not an ex-boyfriend with whom all she had was history in place of a real relationship. She couldn't live with him in the big house on the hill in Texas with Tim right down the hallway.

She sniffed, looking over at Coach. He nodded in agreement. "I know. At some point you guys can't live in that house together."

"Because I don't really think we're going to get married." She fully expected at some point, she'd resigned herself to it, they'd be in a weak moment and maybe they'd hook up a few times. The only reason she'd avoided it thus far was because she didn't know what he was doing with Lyla and honestly, she didn't want to upset the boys. The last thing they needed was Aunt Tyra and Uncle Tim together and then breaking up.

Coach chuckled. "I can't see Tim getting married."

I can. He liked stability more than anything else. He might have slept around nonstop throughout high school and maybe still did, but he was a monogamist at heart. She knew full well if she'd said 'yes' when he'd brought up the idea of them one day being together, he would jump on it in a heartbeat. Just like she knew at some point he'd suggested it to Lyla and if she'd said yes, he would be all over that too. "He likes the idea of family," she whispered. She snorted, sipping her coffee. She set it down again. "He just doesn't seem to want to deal with the hard parts of it."

"Hard parts?"

"Disciplining. The first time I ever heard him be firm with the boys was earlier when Stevie wouldn't wash his hands."

"That's always the worst part. He'll get better at it. Takes time."

"Yeah well it makes them hate me."

He shook his head. "Now you're having a pity party. They don't hate you." She cocked her head, chuckling. Maybe so. She looked over at his phone, which was buzzing. He took it out, smiling. "And we've got Tami. Hold on." He answered, telling Tami that he was with her. He covered the mouthpiece. "She said when they get back from Austin she'll come over and talk to you."

The idea of seeing everyone together…she looked up again, smiling. "Christmas. I'm serious. Tell her to bring everyone over on Christmas." We'll figure something out. I could really use people I love, since this was going to be a shitty Christmas. Coach relayed the message and she finished her coffee. They spoke for a few more minutes on Philly, Tami, Gracie, and she told him a bit about Stevie's therapy, the stupid horse, and Stevie's book of secrets. They finished up and he took her back to her car. She gave him a big hug and thanked him.

"Well I'm no Tami Taylor, but I like to think that I'm a close second."

"No contest Coach, you're definitely second," she teased, smiling. She waved, getting back into the car and promised she'd call to let him know she got home safely. She sighed, leaning back in her front seat and drove up to Tim's house several minutes later. Her phone rang with a text. It was Landry. _Sorry I didn't answer. Got good news. I'll call later._

He probably signed a record deal for all she knew. She got out and went into the house. Lyla was in the kitchen, putting dishes in a drying rack. She turned her head. "Hello."

"Hey," she said, dropping her keys.

"Feeling better?"

"If you could call it that." She wasn't feeling as horrible, but it wasn't better, no. She leaned against the counter, thinking of something. She wanted to tease. To get Lyla's goat. That would make her feel better. She smirked. "I heard that you did a pole dance for Tim at the Landing Strip a couple years ago."

A dish went clattering into the sink. Lyla turned around, looking mortified. "Who told you that!?" she yelped.

"Little birdie."

"Oh my God! RIGGINS!" Tyra grinned. She laughed, clapping her hands. Lyla looked over at her, eyes wide. Until it dawned on her. Lyla laughed, pointing her finger at her. "You are a…a…"

"A bitch?" Tyra supplied.

"Well…maybe sometimes."

"I do feel better now."

Lyla shook her head, laughing. She picked up the dish, putting it back on the drying wrack. She wiped her hands, glancing sideways. "Tim has the boys outside mucking stalls. Which means they're going to come in smelling like and covered in manure."

"Lovely." Another happy accident of having a horse for a household pet. The next thing she knew they'd end up with a pig or something. No dogs and cats for them, they had barnyard animals. She paused, looking over at Lyla again. She cleared her throat. "Will you help me with Christmas please?" This is the hardest thing ever. Asking Lyla Garrity for help with something.

Lyla dried her hands, leaning backwards. "I'd be happy to help," she said. She set the towel aside, her hands gripping the countertop. She opened her mouth to say something, but Tyra interrupted.

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered. She looked down at the top of her boots. She closed her eyes, her voice soft. "I don't want to talk about the boys or them calling me what they called me or anything. I'm talked out. I just…I just want…" She trailed off, turning and leaving the house, walking over to the barn. I just want the boys. It was funny how that thought crept into her mind.

Stevie was the first to look up, holding a little pitchfork and wearing boots that covered almost his entire legs. "Aunt Tyra," he greeted her. He seemed well recovered from the incident of his brother calling her Mama. He held up the pitchfork. "I'm mucking."

"Good for you, don't get covered in poop."

"Okay." He pointed to Thor, who Tim was brushing. "Thor is being stupid."

Which was code for Thor wasn't letting them play with him. Well he was a horse after all. "I'm sure he'll be fine." She picked up Nicky, giving him a big hug and a kiss. "I love you," she whispered, squeezing tight. He smiled, but said nothing, his arms wrapping around her. Ricky was sitting in the dirt, drawing pictures. They both smelled; needed their diaper changed. We have got to potty-train you guys.

Tim hopped over the fence, tossing some of the grooming tools aside. He took Nicky from her, making a face. "Ugh, you stink." He fixed on her. "You better?"

"No." She sighed. "But I'll deal. Your girlfriend's up in the house cleaning."

"Maybe she can potty train them for us before she leaves."

"Maybe." She smiled when he walked off to the house with Nicky. She picked up Ricky and took Stevie's hand, leading them all back like they were some little happy family. A few hours later, she was leaving the bathroom, preparing to go to bed when she bumped into Tim, who was coming out of the twins' room. "They're down for the night," he said. He glanced at Stevie's room. The little boy was fast asleep on top of his covers, the book upended beside him. He smiled briefly. "I'll put him down. You go to sleep."

Thanks. I could use a long decade's sleep. She poked his shoulder playfully. "Have fun with Lyla tonight. Try not to get the whole house up." She smirked when he rolled his eyes. Maybe it wasn't good to joke, but she was just…unsure if she was in a joking mood or a passive aggressive one. "Don't get anyone pregnant tonight."

He rolled his eyes. At least he took it as playful. "Yeah I'll try not to," he joked. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his voice quiet. Serious. "You're a good mom, Tyra. If they call you it…that's not the worst thing."

Maybe it wasn't. It just hurt. She nodded and cleared her throat. "I have to talk to you about Chicago."

"After Christmas."

After Christmas. She walked to her room and stopped, looking over her shoulder at him as he stopped in front of Stevie's room. "Hey, I invited just about everyone over to the house for Christmas."

"You what?"

"I invited everyone. You're welcome." She laughed at his look and went into her room, closing the door. She went to her bed and instead of calling back Julie, Landry, and Tami, who all had left messages throughout the night, she turned off her light and crashed out.


	14. You'll Get Used to It

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay, I haven't had time. Enjoy and thank you for the reviews.

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_**14. ...You'll Get Used to It**_

"I didn't know you knew a thing about horses."

He sat up in the saddle, loosely holding the reins to Thor, who snuffled in his trough for any leftover apple from his breakfast. It was not the smartest thing in the world, buying a horse when there were three little kids and Tyra's paycheck didn't give them much extra income. However, he'd located some people who owed him favors and helped him out with oats at cost, the hay, that sort of thing. He offered his hand to Lyla, who shook her head. "Come on," he chuckled.

"No."

"Just jump up here."

"And where will I sit?"

"In front or behind, your choice."

She climbed up on the fence, grumbling and carefully made the hop from the top of the paddock fence to over Thor, who jumped a little at the sudden feeling of extra weight. She settled in front of him, tilting her head back. "I really didn't think you knew how to take care of a plant, much less a horse."

"Tyra likes horses." He'd remembered that about her. When they dated, once upon a time ago, she'd made some comment about how she wanted to own a horse one day. Learn to ride. She said she thought it was a rich person's sport. Riding a horse. One day she'd have one and she'd ride one and she'd be rich. Or you could get everyone in the Dillon area to owe you favors and still not have any money and be able to have one. Like them now. He clicked his tongue, his heels moving into Thor's flank.

The horse trundled off, annoying that he couldn't find any apples, but wandered off anyway. Lyla smelled nice in front of him. Like lavender. She kept her hands on the pommel, gripping it tightly, but he had a firm grip around her. "Where is everyone? I woke up and the house was pretty empty."

"They're Christmas shopping with the Taylors."

"That sounds nice, why didn't you go?"

He shrugged. He didn't really want to hang around with people. Not that the Taylors were "people." They were just…he didn't feel like he could handle it today if he was with either Coach or Tami. They had good intentions, but he usually felt tired and drained after dealing with them. They always were checking on him. Making sure he was okay. He wasn't sure what he'd have done without Coach there for him right after Billy died. He rested his temple against Lyla's, riding slowly away from the house and down the sloping hill. It was overcast today and really windy. Might rain and frost for sure. The temperatures were plummeting, it'd be a freezing Christmas this year. "Just wanted to be with you. Before you leave."

"Hmm."

"When do you leave?"

"Monday, after Christmas," she murmured, turning her face to his, kissing his jawline. She rested her head back against his neck again. "When does Jason get here?"

"He'll be around later today."

"It'll be nice to have him around." She straightened a little in the saddle. "Where did you learn to ride?"

"Around." He didn't want to talk. About anything right now. He sighed; she probably did. Lyla Garrity got what she wanted. "You know about the job stuff, right?"

"You should do it," she said, easing into the conversation. The letters from the police department, the fire department, the county…there were tons like it. It seemed his boss, a manager at the giant construction company based out of Austin that he worked for, they seemed to have farmed him out to various people because of his talents. He'd joined up with them because it was a decent job and he was good with construction. He couldn't work on cars because of his probation. Even when that had ended he still was wary of it so he stayed away, but he'd fixed some things around various sites here and there and it just got around. "Tim, you've developed a skill."

"At explosives. And I'm a felon."

"Former felon and the police departments want to contract you. For disposal and stuff."

"Not a lot of psychos around Dillon building bombs, Garrity."

She gave him a look that said 'you know what I mean.' She smirked. "You can break in and out of things. That's a skill cops like having on hand. I mean, they can teach themselves but if it's a gift…I'm just saying." She patted his hand, her voice soft, changing subjects. "Thank you for letting me stay here. I needed it. As much as I love my dad, I'm just…just grateful. Thank you."

She'd broken some news to him the other night. Why she'd broken down. He rested his cheek against hers again, whispering. "When things settle down, we can try Garrity."

"Tim we can't."

"We can make a pact. I've heard of them. If neither of us has kids by the time we're thirty-five or something, we'll have kids together." It was a good plan. Not bad, not crazy, just…just something. He wasn't sure why he was clinging to this so much. Maybe because of what she'd said the other night or…or losing the baby. He clutched her tighter. This was what had kind of bound them back together again. He didn't want to lose her…he didn't want her running away not to speak to him again until something terrible happened. "Please Lyla."

Lyla sighed, closing her eyes briefly. The cold wind blew her dark hair from her face, most of it kept underneath a gray knit cap. "Tim…you have your nephews. We've been through this. My fertility issues are not your concern, I told you because it upset me…"

"Lyla you can't have a baby."

She sighed, hard. "It's not that I can't," she said, her voice tight. "It's that it will be extremely difficult, I told you, I was upset the other night…I was emotional. It's just going to be a process."

"Well it made you lose the baby," he stressed. We would have had it if…if it weren't for some of her issues. It wasn't really fate or anything like that. He focused on that. They would have had a baby. It would have been nice. Maybe. Hell, he didn't know. He had three kids now, but…his heart flipped a little at a mini-Garrity. Maybe a little boy, he thought idly. He could teach him football.

She shook her head, whispering. "Stop Tim."

"It's not your fault, I didn't mean that, I just meant…"

"I lost the baby because I lost the baby, this has nothing to do with that!" But it did, he thought, although he kept his mouth shut. Something about being inhospitable. Lyla was always a nice, welcoming person. Could really bit a rabid bitch when she flicked that switch, maybe was psycho now and then, but having an inhospitable environment for a baby? He didn't get that one bit. She pulled at the reins. "Stop the horse…stop Thor."

Was it just him or did Thor literally stop before he put his heels into the horse to stop him? He shook his head when Lyla hopped off the horse. "Lyla."

"I am not talking about my ability or inability to ever have a child, with you or anyone else!" she shouted, sending Thor into an uneasy dance in place. She looked over at him, sighing. "Sorry Thor." After a moment, she glanced at him. "What a shitty Christmas."

It was a shitty Christmas. "Everyone will be here tonight," he repeated from a moment before. It was Christmas Eve. Everyone would be there. He didn't want them there on Christmas Day, which Tyra agreed with. It would be small. The boys could open their presents and they'd eat leftovers and they'd keep Mindy and Billy's traditions alive. Pancakes and one present before opening the rest. Stockings first. The boys each got five bucks, that was their extra stocking stuffer.

It had been a bit tight, but what else were credit cards for than charging things you couldn't afford? He got Stevie a new video game thing, Tyra got them all action figures. They'd splurged on a playset for the twins and Stevie got a real set of cowboy boots and a Stetson. And he got Stevie something he planned to give him when it was just them. He looked over at Lyla, who seemed lost in thought. "Garrity," he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Can I give you my present now?"

She looked over at him, smiling behind her hand, which was covering her top lip. Her head dropped to a slight nod. Okay. He walked over, approaching slowly, like she was a deer. He reached into his pocket, already seeing her eyes closing. It had been on him for much of her visit; he got it a couple days after she arrived. "Tim, no," she murmured.

"It's not what you think." He handed her the small box, wrapped clumsily in Santa paper. He looked at his feet. This was silly. Hell, he'd never bought Tyra a gift in his life, so that had been hard enough. This was even harder to buy, because he'd only given Garrity one or two things in her life.

Lyla took the box, slowly pushing aside the paper. She flicked up the top and gasped. "Oh. Oh Tim. It's beautiful." She looked up, her eyes shining, but wide with surprise. She looked back down, touching her lips again. "Tim…oh God, this couldn't have been cheap…"

"You ask everyone how much their gifts to you cost?" he tried to tease. He reached over the top of the box, removing the necklace from the crushed velvet interior. "Turn around," he instructed. She did as he told, pulling her hair over her shoulder so he could clasp it together behind her neck. He brushed his lips over the expose skin, smiling a little at the dark tattoo beneath her hair. "I still love that. Hot."

"I was drunk." It was a phrase written in Hebrew "live without regret." It was kept hidden by her hair almost at all times. Or makeup when she wanted her hair up. She turned back around, touching her fingertips to the pendant. When he'd been wandering around trying to find something for Tyra and Lyla, Landry had suggested jewelry. You could never go wrong with jewelry, he said.

He couldn't believe he was taking advice on women from Landry Clarke of all people, but Landry had somehow managed to get the hottest girls interested in him, at least for a few minutes. He had gone in and found Tyra a couple of earrings she might like. She had like ten different holes in her ears, so she could at least use one in each if that's what she felt like. He'd also gotten her a new backpack, for her books when she returned to Chicago. He was fairly certain she'd be back there after Christmas.

It was Lyla he was having trouble with. He couldn't get her a ring. She'd freak the hell out. So he'd wandered around and then he saw it. It was an old oval locket. There was an 'L' inscribed in it. The jeweler had said it came from an estate and on the back there was an engraving of a rose. When the jeweler opened it, there was a small mirror and a place for a tiny photograph, which she'd said was so the person could see themselves and the one they loved. "Open it up," he said.

Lyla frowned, screwing her gaze up and clicked open the locket, smiling at the tiny picture. "You put a picture of the Lone Star flag in here."

"Well you have to miss Texas at some point."

She dropped the locket to her collarbone, reaching up to kiss him. "It's beautiful, I love it." She pulled away slightly, her voice quiet. "Your gift is at the house. I'll give it to you later."

I don't care what it is, he thought, lifting her up and carrying her back to Thor. He hopped up behind her and they returned to the house, just in time to see Jason pull up. "Where's Erin and Noah?" he called.

Jason blinked at them. "You have a horse."

"His name is Thor."

"Lyla is riding a horse."

"It's very bumpy, but otherwise enjoyable," Lyla said. She hopped off the horse and immediately went to Jason, giving him a big hug. "I missed you."

"Only a plane ride away," he said. Jason always said that now, Tim thought. He didn't like returning to Dillon anymore than Tim liked leaving it. They should meet in the middle. Which in Tim's opinion was somewhere in Tennessee or something. Vanderbilt, Lyla had actually said once. They'd never actually all met up there. He didn't think they ever would.

They went up into the house, just as Tyra's Jeep pulled up next to Jason's rental, the boys pouring out of the car. The twins with slight assistance from Tyra. So much for hanging with Jason, he thought, reaching down and grabbing Nicky before he tackled Jason. "Watch it," he warned.

"He can't feel anyways," Stevie said, jumping up to give Jason a hug. They remembered him from the funeral. They thought his wheelchair was awesome, if Tim remembered right. "Right Mr. Jason?"

"Right," Jason confirmed, bumping fists with Stevie. He wheeled into the living room, where the haphazard Christmas tree was perched in the corner, lit up with dozens of twinkle lights. They'd used most of the Christmas decorations from the house. He paused, looking at the fireplace. Tim had had to install the mantle, an old barn beam, earlier than planned, so they had a place for the stockings. "Looks good Tim."

His voice was slightly questioning. Tim glanced at the mantle. Lyla was with the twins now in the kitchen, helping Tyra unpack whatever it was she'd brought with her from the car. Yeah, he thought. Mindy and Billy's stockings were hanging off the end. "Seemed wrong not to," he said by way of explanation. The kids hadn't noticed it at all. He didn't think they would.

He let Stevie return to the kitchen. Apparently they'd gone to the grocery store. "Here," Tyra said, handing him back a piece of plastic.

Tim turned his credit card over and frowned. "It looks tired."

"It got a workout."

"Are they going to call me again and wonder if it was stolen?"

"Maybe."

Ugh. He called out to the kitchen, as Tyra waltzed off. "When are we eating or something tonight?"

"Everyone starts coming over around six. Be presentable."

He glanced at the clock over the mantle. That gave them about two hours, he thought, looking at Jason. "Let's go," Jason said, wheeling out of the living room and onto the porch. He pushed himself down the ramp that was at the end of the porch, waiting until Tim arrived to push him over the rocky and bumpy grass towards the pond. They sat there for a few minutes in silence, once Tim got settled sitting beside Jason, looking out at the pond. The sun was beginning to set. It got dark so early, he thought. He didn't like that. Jason spoke softly. "I hear that you guys made semis. Lost."

"Yeah." He wasn't sure if he was going to return to coaching. As much as he enjoyed it, it was stressful and he didn't take with that too well. He liked relaxing. His regular life had enough stress. He kept his eyes on the sunset. "I got Stevie a football for Christmas."

They were quiet again. After a moment, Jason whispered. "That sounds really nice."

It would be nice. He'd give him the gift tomorrow morning and he planned on starting to teach him to throw after that. He didn't tell Lyla. Or Tyra. It would be too much…he didn't want to get into it. Jason wouldn't let him get into it. He understood. Tyra would want him to talk about it. So would Lyla. "Tyra's going to move back to Chicago," he whispered.

"Are you going to be with the kids alone?"

"Yeah." As far as he knew.

Jason reached down, dropping his hand to his shoulder. Tim reached back and squeezed his wrist, before Jason returned his hand to his lap. They kept looking out at the sunset. He finally sighed. "The world is screwed up Tim. Always seems more so when we're supposed to be happy. Birthdays…holidays…Christmas." He patted his shoulder again, lowering his head and whispering closer to her ear. "I'm always here for you Tim. Best friends. Always."

Always, he thought, closing his eyes briefly. He dropped his forehead into his hands. There was so much in his mind right now. Lyla and the baby problems…the kids…Stevie and football. Tyra…Chicago…alone. I'd be all alone, he thought, dropping his cheek to his palm. Who would ever have thought that he'd have three kids on his own before he was even thirty? He wiped at his forehead again. "This Christmas sucks," he said, mumbling. He didn't expect it to feel otherwise.

Jason looked over his shoulder at the house. "I think the Taylors are here."

Well that might be okay then. "Go on up to the house. When's your wife and kid getting here?"

"About an hour or so. They're coming with my parents. Who thank you for inviting them."

"More the merrier," he said, sarcastic. He was looking forward to seeing Coach. Buddy was going to be there, which always meant something crazy would happen. It also meant Angela would be there, which meant Tyra would be a little high-strung. Everyone would be there. Everyone would…he frowned a little. It was the first time since the funeral. Everyone would be in his house again. Since the funeral. He closed his eyes. Wow. That really sucked.

He looked over his shoulder, seeing Jason pushing himself back to the house with little trouble. He could see Buddy on the porch, hands going a mile a minute as Lyla stood in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. Lord only knew what that was about. He smiled a little, looking back at the sunset. It was freezing and he didn't have a coat. He pushed to his feet, turning and walking back to the house, just in time to hear Tyra yell at him to get inside and start helping. Help with what, he wondered.

A few hours later, with the house basically destroyed and full of people, laughing and having a good time, Tim finally smiled for the first time that day. Coach walked over to him, handing him a beer. He took it silently. "What're you smiling about Riggins?"

He began to laugh. "I have no idea," he finally said, continuing to laugh. What a shitty Christmas, but right now wasn't so bad. He set the beer aside and left Coach, grabbing Ricky and threw him into the air, spinning him around. They still had most of the night left. "Ready for Santa?" he asked.

Ricky giggled, nodding and wrapped his arms around his neck. "Yeah." He pulled away and smacked his hands on Tim's face, looking at him. "Dada," he said, his voice quiet. He smacked his hands again. "Dada."

No one else heard it but him. He felt something kind of sink and tear at the same time in his stomach. He stared at Ricky for a few seconds before he wrapped his arms around him, swaying lightly for a moment before he set him down on the floor. He leaned back against the wall. This time it was Tyra who came up to him, handing him the beer he'd left. "This isn't so bad," she murmured. "I think we'll get used to it."

I think we'll get used to it, he echoed in his mind. He watched everyone in the living room and thought to Ricky's tiny voice. Dada. Guess I am. He knew it was going to happen. It already happened to Tyra. It would happen to him. "Yeah," he murmured. They'd get used to it. He shook his head, his voice soft as he sipped his beer again. "That's the bitch of it."

She nodded. "It is."

They clinked beer bottles again. "Merry Christmas," he muttered to her.

She nodded. "Merry Christmas."


	15. Time's Are A Changin'

**A/N: **Bit of an explanation. This is a bit of a transition chapter. The next will pick up a few months later. I felt there had to be one more sort of 'present' chapter tying up a couple of threads before moving on. Thanks for the reviews and sorry for the delays, I just have not had time to write.

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_**15. **_..._**Time's Are A Changin'**_

"Tyra why are you in my room?"

Because I don't want to be in mine, she thought. In her room she had tons of paperwork and some boxes pushed in the corner. She was still waffling on the idea of going back to Chicago. What the hell was she thinking? She couldn't just leave the boys like this. It was too hard on them. She was being silly. She stared up at the ceiling. "What are you doing?"

Tim closed something across the room. "Putting away laundry."

"You're what!?"

"Don't. I already got shit from Lyla, I don't need it from you."

Ah, Lyla. That explained his foul mood. She sat up, her arms falling over her knees. She was lying on his bed, which was unmade, per usual. It was a king, bigger than hers so she liked it. She was tall; she could stretch from one corner to the other without her toes falling off the side. She fell backwards when she confirmed that Tim was in fact putting away laundry in his dresser. He wasn't folding it, she was happy to see. "Lyla's back in Nashville, huh?"

"She's…I don't know. I think so." He closed something else and walked over, falling back next to her. They stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before he turned his face to hers. "Should I wonder where the boys are?"

"Ricky and Nicky are with Matt and Julie. They're sticking around a few days and they wanted to watch them. I put Stevie with Landry. He's learning guitar." It gave her a few hours of peace and quiet. She glanced sideways at Tim. She had to talk to him. She reached her hand between them, squeezing his fingers. "We need to talk."

He let go of her almost immediately and folded his hands on his stomach, still staring at the ceiling. "Yeah," he finally sighed. He looked back at her. His eyes were a very odd shade of green. Sometimes she wondered where that came from. It somehow popped out in Ricky, who looked like a little Tim clone. Genetics were funny. "You're really going huh?"

I'm really going. "For now," she said. I can't explain it Tim. I have to go back and finish this. It's just for a few months. "I'll back after this semester," she said, glancing sideways. Shifty. Maybe. I have to go back. Her throat seemed to close up. "I'm going to really miss the boys."

"We can do the video thing."

That was only so good. She would still miss them. Being able to see them but not hug them was going to kill her. It would just be for twelve weeks, she thought. Just twelve weeks and she had special permission to do her internship out of state. She just had to find someone in Dillon that would take her for social services. She looked back at him. He had his eyes closed. Looked like he was sleeping. Very peaceful. "Tim we need to work this all out…it barely works with the two of us."

"I got it under control."

I don't like hearing that. Didn't sound good. "What do you mean by that?"

"I said I have it under control," he repeated. He opened an eye, glancing at her. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. He smiled quickly, his voice soft. "Don't underestimate me. I figured it out at Christmas."

You figured it out? What was that supposed to me? Forgive me for not thinking that you, the guy who bought a horse after he got guardianship of three kids under fie, has it figured it out. I don't necessarily believe it. "Care to explain to me?" Their biggest support system was Coach and Mrs. Taylor. That wasn't going to work with them in Philadelphia. She'd cried when Tami had said goodbye a couple days ago, mostly because the one person who had never lost faith in her for whatever reason had been Tami. Her surrogate parents, she always thought of them.

He reached his finger down to the edge of the pillowcase, tracing the pinstripes. There was a leather strap around his wrist with the little panther charm he often fiddled with tied to the leather. He was wearing a bracelet, she thought, narrowing her eyes. Go figure. It matched the little wristlets that the boys had begun sporting, each with a different animal engraved in the leatherwork. Courtesy of Lyla, no doubt, from some souk or marketplace. She tapped the bracelet. "Christmas gift? To go with that rug that is now in our front hall?"

"She got it in Turkey."

"The bracelet?"

"The rug."

"Oh." I want to travel, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. I want to see the world. Go to Europe on a gap year and troll around in hostels with a giant backpack full of souvenirs with me. Her voice softened, to a whisper almost, which had Tim's head cocking slightly, as though trying to understand. "I want to see the world."

He blinked. He wouldn't understand. He has no interest in getting a one-way ticket to South America and just wandering. Or Africa or Asia or wherever. All Tim cared about was his homestead. She didn't want to take advantage of that. Leave him with three kids while she went to live her life. Tears flooded her vision. Hell, she never cried in her life and now it seemed all she did. "I'm sorry," he whispered. It was a feeble attempt to make her feel better, but at least he tried.

She shook her head, looking to him again. Too bad we can't work this out to make it all easy on us both. "Sure we can't just get together?" she joked. Or maybe not joked. She wanted something different. Didn't want to hang on to the past because it was easy.

He smiled a little, his eyes crinkling. He folded his arms on the pillow, his chin resting on the cross of his arms. "What are we going to do about all that?" he asked. His eyes were very deep. Soulful. To him, there was one woman and he was content to bide his time, whatever that meant, until he could have her. She wasn't sure if Lyla would ever stay, but that was Tim's decision. It seemed to suit him for a time, she didn't think one thing of Lyla Garrity when the two of them were hooking up a few years ago. Then it seemed once the other woman showed up, Tim had refocused and wanted what he wanted. She wondered if it was the same for her.

She propped her head up. "What do you mean?"

"I got this under control Tyra." Right, the whole her going back to Chicago thing. Leaving him a single dad, basically. He smirked. "You might not trust your mom, but she's their grandmother and she lost her daughter. She loves them. I trust her with them."

Aw geez. "You're getting my mom involved?" She'd been reluctant to give Angela a lot of responsibility with the kids, but that was because the doctors had worried about giving her too much. It had been practically five months since the accident. That didn't mean she was all better.

"Yes. The bus will take Stevie from school to her house. She'll pick up the boys from preschool. I've got this under control. I'll get them from her house. When she's working, if she's ever working, Buddy will do it."

"Buddy Garrity!?" We're all doomed.

He scowled. "Yes, Buddy. He's actually good."

"Fine." Whatever. She swallowed hard. This seemed too good to be true. "Are you okay with this? Buddy and Angela won't be here at night and…and I won't…" I won't be here to help, basically. Won't be able to jump on the first flight or get in my car or anything.

He smiled briefly, whispering. "You gotta' let me do this Tyra."

I know. Forgive me for getting nervous about trusting you. It's not like you have the best track record. "Tim I just…"

A dark look crossed his face. He climbed off the bed, looking over at her before he chuckled, pointing his finger right at her. "This is why we're never gonna' be able to work out."

Her eyebrows formed a point. "Excuse me?" Just a moment ago we were seriously about to do something. Even if she knew she might regret it eventually. Where was this coming from?

"You don't trust me."

She stared at him. I don't trust you? Seriously? "What are you even talking about?"

"Look Tyra, I get that this isn't your plan, because shit, it's not my plan either, but we have three kids and we're five months into this and you want to go back and get your degree? Fine! I'm all for that, get your degree if it makes you happier. Go to Europe if it makes you happier…"

"This is killing me!" she shouted, interrupting him. She slammed her palms against her chest, yelling at him, her blood beginning to boil. How dare he make her feel guilty about this? "This isn't making me happy Tim!" she exclaimed. The tears that were about to fall were long gone. Now she wanted to yell and scream and hit him. She almost sobbed. "This is killing me to leave them. I love those boys more than anything and I know it's going to hurt them. It'll hurt me more, but with me going away right after their parents?! It's going to kill them! This is so I can provide more for them." She took a deep breath, yelling. "Tim I get my Master's and I can get a much better job out here. I can do what I wanted to do and at least have a little piece of the future that I was supposed to have before my sister and your brother decided to get in a car accident and die!"

Uh-oh, she thought, seeing him draw back, his face impassive. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "Decided?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "Tim, that's not what I meant…"

"You think they decided to die!" he exploded, throwing his hands outward. Oh shit, she thought. She'd never seen him this angry. He grabbed the laundry basket, throwing it down on the floor, cracking the plastic from the force. He wheeled back on her, yelling. "This isn't about you Tyra! You might want to get your degree and you're going back to Chicago but you don't get to not trust me with those boys! I figured this out on my own, without you and if that pisses you off well I don't care, in fact Tyra, fuck you! Get the fuck out of my life, go to Chicago, and have a happy time with Matt and Julie, moan and mope because you can't go to Europe and Lyla can! I'm doing the best I can, same as you and you don't see me complaining!"

She stood, frozen, as he stormed out of the house. Oh my God. What the hell did you do? She sank onto the edge of the bed. It took a moment before she realized her shoulders were shaking. Oh my God. Her fingers felt numb, fumbling for her cell phone. It was on the nightstand. She swallowed hard, lifting it slowly to her ear. "Um…" she hiccupped. "Can…can…I talk to you?"

A couple hours later, she was still numb, on the front porch, as Julie sat beside her. She didn't know why she didn't call Landry. He had more insight into this situation, having been around the past five months. She just needed her friend. She hadn't been a very good one to Julie the past couple of years. Too involved in her life to care about Julie's and…and well it wasn't like Julie had had a lot of problems to contend with, but…

"You can't compare his problems to yours," Julie said.

That was the thing. That's what Landry had told her about her life and Julie's. You can't compare it. I can't compare myself to Lyla. I can't compare Tim to…to anyone really. She nodded, her hands folded between her knees. She looked down at her toes, which were sticking out of her flip-flops. It was freezing cold and January, but she was wearing flip-flops for some reason. That's what my life has become. I don't know why I do certain things anymore. Just because I can. "You should have seen him," she whispered, glancing sideways. "I didn't know he could get that angry."

Julie shrugged. "He's a lot Tyra. So have you. The fact that both of you aren't in mental institutions right now is beyond me. Just goes to show how strong you guys are."

"He's right though." I can't believe I'm saying that. She twisted her fingers together. "I don't really trust him sometimes," she said. It wasn't like he had the best track record. She shook her head. "He got a horse."

"To make Stevie feel better and quite honestly Tyra, hasn't it done well for the boys? They have something to keep them busy and…they're learning responsibility. He might not have realized it but it had a dual purpose." Julie bit her lower lip. She glanced out at the land. "I know I…I know my life seems perfect, but it's really not." She glanced at Tyra. "You can't compare peoples' lives. Did you know that Matt and I are paying for all of Lorraine's care? Medicare doesn't cover shit."

Oh my God. She looked at Julie again. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying," Julie said, sounding exasperated. She seemed pained. "That Matt and I are living day to day because most of our paychecks go to care for Lorraine. She's got the Army money from Henry's death and she has Medicare, but we don't want her in some home where she won't get care, Tyra. We don't go on vacations and we work to the bone to take care of her. You can't compare problems." She bit her lip again, whispering. "You have to apologize to Tim. I think he's given you a lot of space."

He really has. I'm just trying with so much. "I have done so much."

"You have done a lot, but he's done a lot too."

I know…God, I know, I feel like an idiot, she thought, burying her face into her hands. She wiped at her eyes, folding her hands together and resting them beside her temple, her chin over her forearm, looking down at the dusty ground. I'm going to miss everyone so much. "I'm doing this for them."

"And focus on that Tyra."

I'm going to get my Master's and I'm going to come back. She shook her head slightly. "I'm only 24, Julie. I'm really trying hard here and…and what if I meet someone, huh? What am I supposed to do? Come back to Dillon with him and live in this house with Tim?"

Julie shrugged. "You're going to have to decide when it comes to it."

It boiled down to something she and Tim weren't willing to say out loud. At some point she would need to move out and the boys would get shuttled back and forth like they were a divorced couple. She knew it didn't matter in the end; children deserved parents who loved them, no matter what, and they did love them. It would just be another shock to their little systems. "They've gone through so much," she murmured.

"And they're going to keep going through it Tyra. You're a psychology major, I'm journalism and even I know that. Each year is going to be harder and harder, but it will also be easier and easier."

She snorted. "That makes no sense."

"It did in my head," she laughed. Julie's face softened. "Tyra do you love Tim? I mean, honestly, do you know deep in your heart that you guys will one day end up together? Raising the three boys as Mommy and Daddy?" She paused. "Because as your best friend, who saw you before and after with him…both times…it's really none of my business, but you are happier when you guys are friends. Both of you are happier."

We must have been siblings in a former life, she thought. They worked better as bickering best friends. She did love him. She would always love him. "I love him," she said. Julie seemed to deflate beside her. She took a deep breath, confronting it head on. The way it had to be confronted. Maybe one day our dreams can merge together. "We're always going to be on a different path," she whispered. She closed her eyes. It seemed truly over now. "I just don't want to keep falling back onto the old," she said.

"You want something new."

"I do," she said. I want something exciting and new and different and not Tim…she ran her tongue over her teeth. He was different. A different person from the one she'd known in school. All those horrible things they did to each other. They were both angry kids. And they'd taken different paths. Tim still had that anger inside. So did she, but she could control it more. He was living a life he'd created for himself to get out of that angry kid phase and so was she. The thing was, those worlds were in different universes. She looked at her best friend again, the image of Julie sitting beside her wavering slightly from tears starting to form again. She laughed, wiping at her eyes. "Why am I crying all the time?"

"You never really cried before, I think sometimes you just have to," Julie said. She laughed, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, pulling her against her. Tyra dropped her head to her friend's shoulder. It was a long way to drop, given their head difference, and slightly uncomfortable, but at the same time it felt nice. "What about Landry?"

What about Landry? "He's a friend."

"No chance for anything there?"

She smiled. No, there wasn't. "I think even if I was interested, Landry got burned really bad. You don't stick your hand in fire again after you get a third-degree burn." He was smarter than that. She sighed, folding her hands beneath her chin, still keeping her head on Julie's shoulder. Her gaze focused on the split-rail fence blocking off the road from Tim's property. He'd painted it white. Tim's version of a white-picket fence. "I think Landry is going to end up famous. I can't keep him here."

"I think Landry dreams of being famous. At best they'll be a one-hit wonder."

"At least that will be something." I can't hold him back from that. She sighed, whispering. "I'm really going to miss the boys. I just hope they forgive me."

"They'll understand one day. And you'll still be in touch with them."

She rolled her eyes upward. "What if Lyla Garrity becomes their stepmother?"

"Then she becomes their stepmother, besides, do you think Lyla is going to move back here? I talked to her at the Christmas thing. She's in love with her job. She's…" Julie trailed off, frowning slightly. "She's doing everything now. That's what she said. She was doing everything now."

So when she decides to settle down she'll have done it already. She sighed, whispering. "I wonder if the kids would like to go to Europe one day."

"You could bring Tim. He can cause an international incident."

"That'd be fun." If he'll ever speak to me again. She sat up, blowing out a hard breath. Enough moping. Almost as soon as she thought it, she saw Tim's truck coming up the road. Except it wasn't his truck. She slowly stood, staring as he pulled into the driveway in a brand-new Chevy Silverado. Oh my God.

"Did Tim upgrade?"

Obviously. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you get something from this century?"

He scowled, walking from the truck to the house. "Hi Jules," he said, greeting her before he swiveled his steel green gaze on her. He was still pissed. "Don't say I don't do things for them."

"Tim." She waited until he turned around, intent on going over to the paddock where Thor was eating from his trough. She sighed. This was hard. "I'm sorry." It encompassed everything. I'm really sorry.

He waited a moment before he shrugged. "Whatever. Go pick up the boys at Angela's and Landry's got a gig in Austin in a few weeks. Some festival thing."

"That's all you have to say to me?"

"Yeah, whatever. When are you getting on the road back to Chicago?" he called.

Only Tim. He didn't seemed to linger on conflict unless it really hit home. This must not have…well he must have forgiven her. She smiled slightly, her voice quiet as she called. "Monday."

"The kids want to go to the zoo. They want to see polar bears." Tim left it at that, walking off to the paddock.

Julie rolled her gaze upwards. "I think he's forgiven you."

And that, Tyra thought, her hands going ot her hips as she watched Tim climb into the paddock. Was like the world had shifted and suddenly she was seeing him in a different light. It was really all over now. They'd started a new era, she figured, cocking her head slightly. She felt nothing for him, watching him work. Not like she had in the past. I get sucked into the drama and now I am already a part of the drama. She looked down at Julie. "Let's go get a drink. Coffee or something. Then we can get the boys."

"That sounds like fun." Julie stood up, walking off with her towards Tyra's car. She opened up the passenger door. "I have to tell you, after the plane landed in Philly, Gracie decided that was the time to spring on Mom and Dad that she's in love with Landry."

"What the hell?"

"I always thought Tim would be her first major adult crush, but she is seven after all and apparently it was Landry. Mom asked her why and she said because he played guitar. Dad didn't know what to do."

The image of Coach Taylor being confronted with seven-year old Gracie's first interest in boys had her laughing. It made her feel better. She chuckled, climbing into the front seat. "Well Stevie did think she was cute, but I don't think he quite knew what he was saying."

"We should hook them up one day."

"Gracie and Stevie?" She laughed, putting her sunglasses on. "That sounds like a plan."

Later that evening, she walked into Tim's room, where he was typing on a laptop. That was odd. She glanced beside him. Ricky was curled around his knee, sleeping. Stevie and Nicky were both fast asleep in her bed. Sometimes she let them hang out with her. Especially when she needed them and since she was leaving in five days, she would need them. She leaned against the tall dresser beside the door, whispering. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't want to talk about it."

"We need to talk about it."

He looked up. In the dim light, he looked so exhausted. Eyes sunk into his head, lines around his lips…he was as tired as her. "Please Tyra," he sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "I don't want to talk about it. We're good. I love you, go away, whatever."

Okay. She smiled briefly, watching him type for a few more minutes. "What are you working on?" she asked, walking over and sitting gingerly on the side of the bed, so she didn't wake Ricky with the movement.

Tim shook his head, shrugging slightly. "Stupid thing. Nothing. Doesn't matter."

It clearly did matter. She craned her neck around, frowning at the Word document. "Is that…"

"Don't make a big deal."

"Tim that's…" He picked up the book sitting beside him, tossing it at her. She caught it, chuckling at the title. _The Great Gatsby_. "Well you would know about pining for love," she teased.

"Stupid thing is about metaphors. I don't know what a metaphor is."

"It's a literary technique. Something standing for something else that don't ordinarily go together like…" she trailed off, shrugging. "The black sheep of the family. Metahor. Sheep aren't really in the family."

He rolled his eyes sideways, giving her a pointed look. "I know what it is Tyra. I just have to write it."

"You want me to help?"

"No. This is on me." He nodded to Ricky. "Put him to bed."

We all do things, she thought. I'm going back to school to finish my Master's. It's my way of finally completing everything I told Mindy I'd do one day. I'd go to college, I'd get out, I'd be a good person…and it seemed like Tim had done something maybe for Billy. She didn't know he'd applied to Dillon Tech. She leaned over and slowly lifted Ricky up into her arms, cradling his head against her shoulder. She glanced at Tim. "You said you never wanted to go to college?"

Tim kept his eyes on the computer. He didn't say anything. She turned, thinking he wouldn't answer. It was his decision, he didn't owe her anything. At the door, she heard his soft voice. "Billy wanted it. I said no."

Tyra turned and left the room, taking Ricky to her bed instead of his room. She set him in with his brothers and picked up a pillow and blanket, going over to the chaise she'd found at an estate sale a few weeks ago. She crawled onto it into a ball and pulled the blanket over her, closing her eyes. The new era had certainly begun, she thought, as she drifted to sleep.


	16. Back to the Grind

**_16. ...It's Back to the Grind_**

_Four Months Later_

"Steven Hannibal Riggins get your as…" Tim trailed off, closing his eyes when Nicky already started giggling from his booster seat at the kitchen table. He shook his head slightly. "Butt, get your butt downstairs now!" He turned around, just in time for Ricky to hurl a spoonful of his oatmeal straight at him. He glanced at the oatmeal on his shirt, which to his knowledge was the only clean shirt he had for work. He closed his eyes again.

What did Tyra tell him to do? Count to ten. One…two…three…splat. He opened his eyes, looking at another oatmeal splotch on his shirt. This time the projectile had come from Nicky, getting in on the action. I never, ever should have shown them how to catapult things with your spoon. He held his tongue. No reaction. No reaction. Don't give them a reaction. He walked away from them into the laundry room and closed the door, letting out a yell and ripped the shirt off, tossing it into an overwhelmingly large pile that was the size of the washer, on the floor.

He left the room, seeing Stevie climbing up on a stool to get to the cabinet; where he'd had to move all the snacks after they'd kept walking to the pantry and OD'ing on sugar when he wasn't looking. "Steven!" he shouted. Stevie tottered, surprised. "Shit," he cursed, grabbing the kid before he took a face plant on the tile. He turned him around, looking down at him. Something he'd learned in the last four months was if you looked down at them from above to punish, it had more effect than when you were at their level. Which you had to get to if you wanted to explain something important.

Tyra told him, when he'd informed her of this epiphany, about three weeks after she'd left, that that was pretty much psychology 101. She probably thought she was so clever, knowing everything and not telling him shit, while she was a thousand miles away in Chicago and not having to deal with this. Although he didn't bring that up much during their daily conversations. It almost didn't even seem like she was gone, they talked so damn much.

Except like now, when having an extra set of arms might be helpful, Tim thought, turning Stevie around to the table. "Eat your cereal."

"Oatmeal sucks!" Nicky exclaimed. Ricky chimed in with his agreement.

"You know it does suck, but the doctor says you need more something good in your diet." He'd learned the hard way that pizza and mac and cheese wasn't the best diet. About two weeks after she'd left, Tyra told him to make an appointment for their yearly checkups. He'd taken them because she'd told him, but then had the shit scared into him by the doctor about juvenile diabetes and childhood obesity and all other kinds of doctor talk that he had gone right to the cabinet and tossed out most of the cookies and candy.

Although he'd eased up when he realized how expensive eating healthy was. The kids were kids, they ran around too much to get obese. Except the one weekend when he realized that they had barely left the couch because they'd been watching TV and playing video games for 12-hours straight. Being a parent is hard, he thought, not for the first time in four months. He hadn't realized how hard it was and he vowed never to ever say it was easy again and he now admired single parents greatly. This shit was hard.

"We have to go to school, come on." He lifted Nicky out of his booster seat and then Ricky, taking them to the front bathroom to wash their hands. He glanced at their diapers sticking out of the tops of their jeans. "Fudge." He immediately looked at Stevie, who had a little blond eyebrow lifted. "I said fudge!"

"Just checking," he chirped.

There was a swear jar, something Tyra had instituted from afar in Chicago. He swore too much around them. He had to put a quarter in every single time he swore. The kids were itching for him to say bad words because when there was enough change they got ice cream. "Come on guys, you have to learn to use the big boy bathroom," he said, when Nicky tugged at the back of his diaper.

They scowled. "Potty bad," Ricky said.

"It's not bad. You can shoot Cheerios with your pee." He was trying everything possible. Tyra had read up on it and was telling him to bribe them, make them do tricks, anything, say anything to make the bathroom seem like a cool thing because they were not interested and they had to be potty-trained if they wanted to get to the good preschool.

Nicky wrinkled his nose. "No."

Some other time then. "Fine. Come on." He pushed them out of the room, walking them to the TV where they would sit for a few minutes watching Doc McStuffins. I'm going to kill that stupid character, he vowed. That and Jake and the Pirates or something. Baby Einstein was also his arch-enemy. He swore he started having seizures after hearing the theme music, but Tyra told him it was just an anxiety attack.

"I'm done," Stevie said.

Tim was about to take the bowl when he remembered the chore chart they'd started with Stevie. Who thought up this crap? Thank God for Tyra. He'd be lost without her suggestions. He just had to remember to put them into practice. "Put your bowl in the sink."

"Oh, yeah." Stevie walked the bowl over, calling out. "Can Mike come over tonight?"

"Who is Mike?"

"My best friend."

"Thought your best friend was Angelo."

"Angelo got a new best friend so I got one too." Kids were weird, Tim thought. They changed best friends almost daily. He grabbed Stevie's backpack, checking the dumb folder. Elliott had been really helpful, to the point where he'd actually bought him a few drinks when he saw him in Buddy's bar now and then. That and Dr. Amy, the psychologist, who Stevie saw every three weeks now, since he was getting better and adapting more to his new life.

They'd had a bit of a setback after Tyra left. Stevie started seeing 'monsters' everywhere and wanting to sleep in his bed. He still carried his book around, which Tim had yet to see inside. He could pick it up whenever he felt like it, when Stevie was asleep, but for some reason he wanted to respect the kid's privacy. If the psychologist didn't think it was bad, then fine.

"I need a snack for school," Stevie said, walking up to stand across from him, leaning on the counter, his toes touching the floor. He grinned. "My day."

What? Tim looked at the folder, grabbing the flyer with the snack schedule. Steven Riggins…shit. Today. "Fine, we gotta' go to the store."

"Can't have peanuts."

That's because every little nerdy child in the world was allergic, Tim remembered, about to ask why not. Whatever. He'd grab whatever he could find first that was cheapest. "Come on, we gotta' drop your brothers off at day care." He tossed the bag at Stevie and grabbed both kids under his arm, punching the TV off with his free hand. He could be an amazing fullback with this new skill. The ability to grab anything with one hand while pushing a kid away from a light socket or something with the other.

"Hey! Watching that!" Ricky shouted. "Yeah!" Nicky followed.

"I don't give a flying whatever, come on. We're late." He threw a jacket at Stevie's face. "Let's go! Move it Panthers!"

Stevie trudged out. "Can Mike come over or not?"

"I don't know."

"Well know."

"Hey," he warned. Stevie had gotten into talking back again. He rolled his eyes. I swear, if I ever become my father I'm blowing my brains out, he thought, only half-serious. He made a vow when Tyra had left that he would not become Walt, no matter how hard it was. The silly thing was, he had barely had time to drink, he was so busy with them doing something. Who knew the thing to drying out was have three kids and no one else to help?

They piled into his new truck. He looked over at Thor, who was giving him an evil eye. "Damnit."

"Swear jar!" all three said at once.

I don't have time for this BS. He punched a number into the car's fancy spaceship-style phone thing, backing out of his drive. He swiveled the wheel and shoved his sunglasses on as they drove east against the sun to Dillon. The phone rang a few times and Landry answered, sounding fast asleep. "Lo'?"

"Need you to feed my horse."

"Who is this?"

"Landry, baby, who is that?"

Tim's eyebrows lifted clear over his the rim of his aviators, as all three boys when 'oooh.' "Landry's got a girlfriend," Stevie sang.

"Am I on speaker? The hell Riggins?"

"Swear jar!"

This is too much for even me to handle, let along a hungover and clearly not alone Landry. "Need you to feed my horse. Get out of bed, tell whoever that is with you that she's crazy, and go to Thor. Paddock's unlocked, the feed's already in the container thing next to the door in the barn and get some apples out of the fridge in there. Thanks man."

"You owe me Riggins."

"Yeah, whatever." He punched hang-up and almost right as he did, his cell phone rang, syncing to the car system. He answered without looking at the dash to see who it was. "Yeah?"

"Hey."

All three boys squealed. "Miss Lyla!"

"Am I on speaker? Hey boys! Is Uncle Tim being good?"

"Daddy's good," Ricky said. He'd been the only one to keep up calling him Dad. Stevie shot his brother a dark look. He'd also learned not to say anything after Dr. Amy had explained to him that his brothers were little and didn't know any better. It had taken time.

Lyla chuckled softly. "That's really good. Well I wanted to say hi to everyone. Tim, I'll call you later."

He waited a second. "You can't say now?"

"Off speaker."

He hit a button and put the phone to his ear. "What's going on Garrity?"

"I'm going to be in town." That was early, he immediately thought. She covered quickly, probably knowing where his thoughts were going. "I'm fine, Tim, I'm fine. I'm going to stay with my Dad…it's nothing serious. It's the end of semester anyway."

There was something in her voice. He wasn't sure what to do with that, but whatever. They rarely spoke, he was too busy and she was overseas. "You need me to get you at the airport?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks. I'll see you later."

Later, he thought, before he could say anything and she'd hung up. He didn't think anything of it, jerking the car to a stop in front of the daycare. He left Stevie in his booster seat in between the twins, lowering the windows and ran into the daycare, dumping the boys. "They really need to get pottytrained Mr. Riggins," the five-year old who ran the joint, or at least he she seemed like she was five, she was way too young to be running a daycare that was for sure, shouted at him as he waved and ran back to the truck.

Stevie shouted from the back. "My snack! We need to get the snack!"

"I know!" he shouted back. Get off my back kid, geez. He spun the truck around, got stuck in a traffic jam near the high school, backed up and hit a row of trashcans, and then somehow got around a police car with a cop giving him the evil-eye as he sped up beside a bunch of people all turning left to go straight through a yellow light. Something that should have taken five minutes ended up taking twenty, and he was not in a mood to deal with anyone when he dragged Stevie into the grocery store.

At the bakery he grabbed several things of cookies. "No peanut butter," Stevie warned, grabbing the top which was peanut butter, off his stack. "And Marcie is allergic to chocolate."

"Well Marcie can eat the raisin ones."

"Llergic' to those too."

"Well then Marcie can sit out and learn the cruel realities of the world. Survival of the fittest," he said, dumping the containers on the conveyer belt. He reached into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet and threw down some cash to cover it.

"In a hurry?" the elderly lady sitting at the register chuckled.

He gave her a dark look. "What gave it away?"

"I remember those days. Your son is cute."

He glanced at Stevie, who was flicking through a magazine, imitating a guy standing in the other lane, which was held up due to a pricecheck. He smiled briefly. It didn't feel like a gnawing pain in his gut anymore. Just a brief sting. Like antiseptic on a cut. "Thanks," he mumbled, taking the bags and handing one to Stevie. "Come on, we're late."

They went to the truck and he had a clear sailing to the elementary school. He walked Stevie into the room and handed him the other bag with the snack. Stevie set them in his cubby, along with his backpack and jacket. "You got everything?" he asked.

"Yup."

"Give me a hug."

Stevie shot him a look. "No," he mumbled, rolling his eyes towards a little girl who had her fingers lifting to wave at him. He grit his teeth. "Not in front of Marcie."

Ah, so that was the allergic Marcie, he thought, trying hard not to smile. He pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead. He placed his hands on his hips, glancing at Marcie again. "She's cute," he said, his eyes darting to Stevie.

His little cheeks flushed pick to his blond hair. "Stop it."

"You got a thing for her?"

"No, girls are gross."

"So what if I hug you?"

"I'll step on your foot."

Well that's fair. He laughed, cuffing Stevie's head. "Later kid."

"Bye Daddy." Stevie didn't even realize what he'd said, trotting off to his desk beside Marcie. He reached for his crayons, pushing some over to the little girl, who took the pink one and began coloring on her notebook cover.

Wow, he thought. That one hurt. When Stevie said it he expected to have it feel like a knife to the gut, whatever that might feel like. Painful. Just…stabbing and painful. Oh it hurt, it was just…it wasn't like that. He couldn't explain it. It really fucking hurt. He turned away and waved to Elliott, who was writing stuff up on the board. The teacher gave him a nod, before continuing with writing.

He got into his truck, hitting speedial. It rang a few times. "Hey Tim."

"Tyra."

"What's wrong?" she said immediately.

He pulled the truck over to the side of the road, because he wasn't sure he should be driving. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Everything went dark. He'd closed his eyes. "Stevie…"

"Fuck Tim, is everybody okay? The boys? Talk to me!"

"He…he called me…"

"Oh God." She already had it put together. Her voice cracked. "He called you Dad?"

He nodded, until he remembered she was on the phone and not the video thing on the computer like how he normally spoke to her, during her nightly meetings with them all. He took a deep breath, releasing it hard. "He called me Dad."

Her voice was soft. "You are his dad."

"Billy is."

"The one he knows now." It was hard to explain to them, he thought. They'd know. They did know. All three of them had pictures of Mindy and Billy all over their rooms. It was so hard for him to see them, as it was for Tyra, but Tami had suggested it. Said it would keep their memories alive.

He closed his eyes briefly. "I have to get to work."

"Tim."

"Lyla's coming to town. I think maybe with her I can wrangle a trip to the zoo." Or the museum or science center or something. He hated dragging the three of them around to places. It was so complicated. Someone else with him and he was planning on taking advantage.

He disconnected a few minutes later, driving off towards work. It was an old apartment complex, something that looked like it came out of a communist country, he thought, pulling his truck up beside the police vans and cars. He climbed out, seeing the team he'd haphazardly put together for this side-job he'd become rather adept at. He shoved his white hardhat down over his head, unfurling the plans and setting them out on one of the hoods of the police cars. "You're all business," his main contact, a Lieutenant Quinn Forester said, chuckling. The woman grinned at him. "What's your problem today?"

He glanced at her. They'd gone out a few times. Imagine him with a police officer, he'd practically caused heart attacks when he'd admitted that fact about himself. Jason hadn't been able to stop laughing. "You want to grab dinner this weekend?" He had no idea how long Lyla planned on staying.

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "My ex is coming to town."

"That mean something? So is mine."

"Yeah but my ex and I are taking our daughter to Austin. She wants to see the capitol building. Obsessed with state capitols." Quinn had a five-year old who was in a class across the hall from Stevie. He didn't mind Annabeth, but apparently she wasn't Marcie. Quinn frowned briefly. "What's got you all annoyed? Ex coming to town? Mine makes me want to shoot things which is why I took on this job today."

He pushed his sunglasses up, pointing to the company truck that had just pulled up. "Marco!" he shouted. He pointed to the building. "You got those charges set?"

"Bearing walls, like you said boss!"

Fine. He glanced at Quinn. "My ex tends to make me drink."

"Exes do have a way of doing that." She glanced at him as he walked away from the car with the plans and towards the area set up beyond the barbed wire fence around the old building. "Don't you want to know why the cops want to blow this joint up?"

"Not what you pay me for."

Her dark red hair was piled in a bun at her neck. A few strands came loose as she tossed her head back, laughing. "You're an interesting character Tim. When your ex is out of town and my ex is out of town, we should get the kids a babysitter."

He smiled at her, reaching for the laptop that was now sitting on another car's hood. He leaned against it, setting the laptop on his knees, tapping away. He tugged on the cords, ensuring they were secure. "Get everyone out of there and call the clear," he said, smirking at her. His stomach still hurt from Stevie's statement from earlier. He waited for everyone to call, hit the button sending an alarm off and then, as everyone took cover, hit the sequence.

The building went up in smoke with a slight boom, imploding rather than exploding. Very big difference, he thought, watching the rubble fall. I have a weird job, he thought. He glanced at Quinn, who appeared beside him a moment later. He liked her. They had fun together. It was nice to get that out when he needed it and he suspected it was the same for her. Better the two of them with each other than with their exes, which seemed to be both their M.O. Funny how alike she was and she was a high-ranking cop. And he blew up buildings for them. "Maybe some other time," he said.

Quinn smiled briefly. "I thought as much." She arched an eyebrow. "Your ex? Is it Tyra?"

He waited a moment, shaking his head. "No, we know where we stand. It's another one." He said bye to her and left everyone to clean up, which was usually what he did, and drove off to the next job. He'd be there a bit longer than the previous one. As he drove, he got another call. Landry saying he couldn't find the apples. Crazy Landry. He didn't get an answer to who the chick was with him, but he didn't think it mattered.

He was halfway to West Cambria, where the job was, when his phone rang again. Buddy. "Can you get Lyla? I'm stuck in an investor meeting."

That got his antennae up. "What?"

"Nothing bad."

"Do not sign away the bar."

"It's just a little business deal."

"Famous last words," Tim said before disconnecting. He didn't bother contacting Lyla to let her know he'd pick her up. Buddy sent him the information. He went to work, glad that his phone didn't ring at all throughout the day from anyone associated with his psycho family. That meant the kids were fine in school. Angela picked them up and he'd drop by, he guessed with Lyla, later.

He got another call from Tyra. She'd made her plans to return for the summer. She had an internship and would need to go back to Chicago a few times, but otherwise she'd be back soon. _We need to talk about the future. _More famous words. He knew what she was thinking though.

As crazy as his life had been as a relatively single dad of three kids, it had gotten into a routine. Busy mornings, work, and busy evenings. He wanted to poke his eyes out most of the time. Sleep for ten years. It was all stupid shit. I want a break, he thought vaguely. Chore lists and making sure they didn't eat Pop-Tarts for dinner. Going shopping and getting peas instead of steak. Ugh. I've turned into Billy, somehow. He hit his head against the headrest. Hit it a few more times.

The plane had already landed when he'd walked into the airport, waiting outside of the security gate. He saw Lyla's head over the tops of everyone, coming out in a small crowd, probably all from the same flight. He waved. "Garrity!"

She froze, her face going white. He frowned a little, but then it was his turn to freeze, watching her emerge from the crowd and walk towards him. "Tim," she said, stopping. She frowned briefly. "What are you doing? I wanted my dad to pick me up."

"He got busy. Investment meeting."

"Oh God."

"He said it's all fine."

She rolled her eyes. "Until he gives up the bar." She dragged her suitcase behind her. "Are the boys with you?"

"Naw, they're in school. We can pick them up." He took her suitcase, tossing it into the back of the truck, which she admired, stating that it was far more practical to have a backseat for the three boys instead of his rickety old truck. Yeah, well Tyra's car is still a POS, we'll have to deal with that when she returns. He leaned back in the seat. "Good flight?"

"No chit-chat Tim. Let's go." Well that was easy. They drove in silence. He turned the music on; she turned it off. He rolled the windows down; she turned them up. Story of our lives, he felt like saying, almost teasing. He reached over and threaded his fingers into hers, squeezing. Lyla sighed, squeezing back. "We have to talk, Tim."

Yeah. We always have to talk. "Now?"

"Let's just go somewhere. Just for a few minutes."

Well the kids could stay with Angela as long as necessary. He drove off towards his house. They could go to the pond. That had sort of become their place. He parked, nodding towards Thor. "You want to get the him saddled? Go for a ride?"

Lyla chuckled, shaking her head. "No. Not…not yet." She climbed out and walked off towards the pond. He followed, stopping on the dock with her. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head to look up at him. She took a deep breath. "I'm graduating from Vanderbilt. Early. They processed my paperwork. I'll have my Master's at the end of May."

"Cool."

She nodded, looking back out again. "I had to come back early…um, something came up." She waited another moment, before she tossed her hair from her face, smiling up at him. "I want you to know that I'm fine."

Well don't ever start a conversation off like that, he thought, narrowing his eyes. "Okay," he drawled.

"I've been very busy and I just got back from Africa and went to my doctor and…"

His stomach sank. Not again. "Shit, are you pregnant again?!" he exclaimed, dragging his hands up to his face. He clawed at his cheeks before he pushed his hands through his hair, sending the long strands going sideways. What the hell was wrong with him that he could do this twice on accident in a year? To the same woman!? "I can't have a kid," he blurted out, as she stared, impassive at him. He hated it when she did that. Waited for his outburst to be over. Well it wasn't going to be over. Not for awhile. "Garry I have three kids, I can't have another one, what the heck? Say something!"

Lyla smiled, long and slow. She laughed, her lips pulling over her teeth, grinning stupidly. "I'm not pregnant. Calm down will you?"

Not pregnant. He blinked. "Oh. Well…I just thought…" He squinted. This made no sense. "But you came back early and you…you didn't seem happy to see me at the airport and…" he pointed to her stomach. She was wearing a large cardigan sweater over her tank top. "That."

She pulled her tank top up, revealing a taut abdomen. "Satisfied?"

"Maybe." Okay now he was satisfied. Although given their track record he wouldn't be fully satisfied without a doctor's note.

The bottom of her tank fell back over the top of her jeans when she let go. She crossed her arms over her chest, her hair falling out of the twist it was pulled into in the back of her head. He liked when she did that. It gave her an elegant look but at the same time messy. That's what she was. Elegant but messy. She nibbled her thumbnail, her voice quiet, studying the jagged edge when she removed it from her teeth. "I was surprised to see you at the airport. I came back early because when I was in Africa I didn't feel well and they sent me home to get medical attention. I came back to Dillon because I wanted to see you, it's been awhile, and at the same time I need to make an appointment with my doctor, who is still here. The one I trust at least." She sighed. "I'm having this thing done on Monday. It's called a laparoscopy. They're going to go in and see how come I just…have problems." She waved in the general vicinity of her stomach. "There." She lifted her eyes to him again, whispering. "Why I can't have a baby."

But you're so young. He voiced this opinion. "But you don't want kids yet. What's it matter now?"

"They say it's easier to figure these things out when you're not planning on kids than when you're much older and planning. So I'm figuring it out. "

Made sense. He guessed. He reached for her, drawing her close. Lyla was touchy-feely. Maybe there was a real term for it, but he knew when she wasn't feeling good she had to be close to someone. Holding them or just having them sit beside her. He would prefer to be alone, usually, but this wasn't about him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes as she drew herself up, clutching him. He felt calm again. "It's been pretty insane these past few months without Tyra," he whispered. He hadn't told her the half of what had gone on. Barely spoke to her.

She giggled into his shoulder. "I can imagine."

"Oh you really, really can't."

"Try me."

He screwed up his nose, trying to think of the worst thing that had happened in four months. He couldn't really think of one, it was all mostly hectic and psychotic. So he chose this morning. "This morning the twins threw oatmeal on me and I didn't have clean shirts so I had to wear a dirty one to work and then they refuse to potty train and Stevie didn't tell me he needed snacks so we had to go to the store to get them, he's in love with a girl in his class allergic to everything, and he asked me about some kid coming over today who I don't know and I just remembered that now and I can't remember if I even told him that it was okay or not." He waited again. "And I can't remember if I even gave him a lunch for school."

She laughed, throwing her head back. "Oh my God."

"And Tyra keeps reminding me about playdates and shit. She's supposed to be studying, she still doesn't trust me."

Lyla smiled, her arms still linked around his neck and his around her waist. "Oh she trusts you. She wouldn't have gone back if she didn't. I think she's just trying to remind you of things that you wouldn't think are important."

He scowled, almost spitting the words out. "There's a chore wheel. And allowance. I didn't get allowance. I had to steal the cash if I wanted it."

"Well you're a better parent than your parents ever could have hoped to be." She said it with such conviction. Almost a swear or something. There was a bit of disgust also edging her words. He thought for a moment. Really? He must have had it showing on his face. She almost smirked. "Tim, don't get me started. You are amazing. I can only imagine. You've done more than I thought you ever could have done this past year…and you did it alone for four months."

I did do it alone. All by myself. Not really though. "I had your dad," he murmured. And Angela. "And Tyra's mom and…and everyone else." There weren't a lot of people. Landry. Landry's dad still worked at the Sherriff's Department and got him a contract with them for his…talents. Mrs. Clarke actually sent over casseroles for them. Healthy food too. Nothing like he cooked. He looked down at Lyla again. He smiled briefly. They had to lighten up. All they ever did was depressing stuff. "I grocery shop."

"You do not."

He lowered his knees so they were the same height. She moved her feet so she was stepping on his, raising her to his eye level to save the impact on his knees. "I do too. I take the boys and I grocery shop. I get them frozen peas."

"For wounds and bruises?"

"To eat!"

"I'll believe it when I see it," she laughed, brushing her lips against his. She smiled, her voice soft. "You seeing anyone?"

He thought briefly of Quinn. Not really. "No," he whispered. He wiggled his eyebrows. "You?"

"No." She pulled away from him before she completely kissed him, her voice soft. "Are we together?"

Not really. "Sort of. Not really." Maybe. One day. No. Hell. He had no earthly idea. He cocked his head, his voice quiet. "Do you want to be together? You get three kids, two of them aren't potty-trained and the other crawls in my bed every night." I'm just making this so desirable to you right now, aren't I? He wasn't being serious. All they were was serious. She seemed annoyed by it. He shook his head, his voice soft and lips dropping to hers again. "I'm tired of being serious. Let's just have some fun."

A sigh escaped her lips. "I like that idea," she whispered, returning the kiss he gave her. She broke it a moment later, smiling against his mouth. "I got you something."

"Is it a sexy something?"

"No. Come on." She turned around, leading him to the house. She got her bag from the truck, dragging it into the house, where she froze on the threshold, staring into the living room. I know, he thought, not bothering to apologize for the mess. She let the door slam behind her. "Oh my God. At Christmas this place was clean."

"That's because Tyra cleaned it." He didn't have time for cleaning. Things grew on top of things, basically. Or at least things were thrown on top of things.

She set the bag on the couch, shaking her head, more amused than anything else. "This place reminds me of how it was when you and…" she trailed off, her lips forming a tight line. You can say it, he thought, removing a bunch of toys from the couch to make room for her bag. She set it in the relatively empty space. "When you and Billy lived together."

It wasn't as gross as that. He didn't like the food left out but toys and just about anything else could be hanging around. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to get his gift or whatever it was out of her bag. "I don't have time to clean. I barely have time to find dinner that meets the four basic food groups." He chuckled, speaking more to himself than her, muttering. "And Pop-Tarts aren't included."

She smiled, opening up the bag. "I don't think they are, no." She reached in and removed a tissue-paper wrapped object, passing it to him. Her arms went awkwardly to her chest before she put them on her hips. Her voice dropped. "It's nothing."

I like it when you bring me nothing. The leather strap around his wrist only came off when he was in the shower. It had the little panther charm strapped to it. She'd taken it from him at Christmas, had it redone. It was his lucky charm, he thought. The boys had versions for themselves. Lyla called it their spirit animals. Stevie was a fox. Ricky was a rabbit. Nicky was a wolf. That fit their personalities well. He unwrapped the paper, revealing a carved wooden elephant. "Elephant?" he chuckled, lifting his eyes to hers.

Lyla wrapped her hand around his, her voice soft. "An elephant is one of the smartest animals in the world," she said. Her fingers curved over the figurine. "They sometimes mate for life. The males court the female and ultimately she chooses when she wants him. Their babies suck their trucks, like little kids suck their thumbs. They cry. They mourn. They are fiercely loyal and protective and they don't hurt unless they absolutely have to. To protect the young, the sick, and the weak. They even laugh." She smiled, her hand wrapped around his wrist. "I saw it and I kind of thought of you."

"As an elephant?"

"As a protector," she laughed. She took the elephant, walking it to the mantle and set it between the photo of Billy, Mindy, and the boys and the one that he and Tyra had taken with them at Christmas. The two versions of the same family, he always thought. "Protecting," she said. She turned on her heels, her hands on her hips. She smirked. "You have got to clean this dump up."

"Well that's why you're here."

"I don't think so."

An idea popped into his head. "Hey…you know anything about potty-training…"

"I am not potty-training the boys for you. They'll do it when they're ready." She dragged the suitcase back to the front door. She turned on her heel, her nose wrinkling. I knew you couldn't stand the trash for very long, he thought, laughing when she picked up a few things from the stairs. Then the couch. He went into the laundry room, dumping clothes into the washer. He moved around, happy to have a free hour from his day to at least get the kids some clean clothes.

It didn't take long, but he had most of the stuff in the wash, leaving the room. He went to the table, taking his computer out onto the porch, where Lyla was sitting with a glass of iced tea. "Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"The fridge."

"Oh." When did I get iced tea?

Lyla handed him a piece of paper. "Found this on the fridge."

He took the paper. _Hi Tim sweetie! The boys complained about not having carrot sticks so I got some for them and thought you might need a refill. You owe me $200. Love you! Angela. _Figured. Angela always thought he wasn't feeding them. He just didn't have time to go to the store. "Well saved me a trip and drama," he said, pushing the computer up. He tapped in his password. "You know anything about quadratic functions?"

"I'm not doing your homework for you Tim."

"Worth a shot." He sat and worked a bit on his dumb homework. Why am I doing this again, he wondered. Oh yeah, because I owe it to Billy. He did two more functions, gave up because he couldn't concentrate, and was about to ask Lyla if she wanted to go fool around now that he had the place to himself for a few hours. Of course, the front door banged open.

"Tim!"

"Tim Tim Tim!"

"Ricky peed his pants Tim," Stevie exclaimed, storming out to the porch. He put his tiny hands on his hips, glowering. "He's such a baby!"

"Well he's got a diaper." Whatever, you know? He glanced at Lyla, who was waiting for Stevie to notice her. He turned him around slightly. "Hey, look who I picked up."

"Miss Lyla!"

Angela appeared on the threshold, Nicky shooting out from between her legs to the backyard, whipping one of his toys around in the air. She had Ricky on her hips. "Hey sweetheart, did you get my note? Stopped at the store for you and got Stevie. He said he was supposed to have a friend over, not sure about that, why don't you take this one, he's got a bit of a heavy bottom, well who is…" her sweet voice instantly hardened at the sight of Lyla holding Stevie in her lap, perusing his book. "Oh. Lyla."

He rolled his eyes, taking Ricky from her as she went back to her car to their bags. "She hates me," Lyla moaned.

"She doesn't hate you." Yeah, she kind of did. He wrinkled his nose at Ricky. "You have got to learn how to use the potty." He hated that word. "Bathroom. Toilet. Whatever." He set him down. Ricky wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, stinks, huh? We have to live with it and you don't have to if you don't want." The toddler didn't care, running off to join his brother, skipping around the backyard.

His phone went off, thankfully, and he checked it, walking off the steps towards the barn. He glanced at it. Tyra wanted to FaceTime. The hell? He hit a button. "What?" he demanded. He didn't mean it to sound so harsh. There was a lot going on.

"You sound cheerful." Her hair was red today. She arched an eyebrow. "Where are the boys, I wanted to talk to them and you didn't answer the computer."

"They're playing, your mom brought them over." He went into the barn, holding her steady. He sat on a bale of hay next to Thor's little penned area. He leaned forward, suddenly exhausted. "Tyra."

She cocked her head. Confused. "You don't look good."

"Just tired."

"Don't get the boys sick. I'm coming home in a week for spring break and I can't afford to get sick right at exams."

"I'm not sick. I'm…" he trailed off. He didn't know how he felt. It was just nice to have Lyla around. Felt good. The house was only partially clean. He didn't care much about that. Angela went grocery shopping so he got to avoid that monster mess. He didn't know why. He felt his shoulders slump. "I'm just tired is all. Lot's of stuff."

Tyra looked at something off in the distance. She smiled briefly. "My mom just sent me a text. Lyla's back, huh? You failed to mention that." Her voice grew colder. "You going to need some time alone when she leaves this time?"

"No, it's not like that." He paused. He wasn't sure what Lyla's plans were now that she was graduating, but he didn't think they had anything to do with Dillon, Texas. "This isn't Tim and Lyla Part Two." He dropped his arm a little from his face. He hated this dumb video thing.

"Could have fooled me."

"I got enough going on right now, Tyra."

She quieted. "Yeah, I know." Her eyes lifted again. She tugged at her hair, which was also shorter than it was the night before, pulling it into a braid. She looked back at the little camera. Her eyebrows lifted. "I'm coming back in a week. We can discuss this then, but right now I just wanted to see the boys. I'll call them later tonight." She seemed to hesitate. "Um…we really need to talk Tim. I know you've got a lot right now and we can discuss that later too, but when I come back, I'm not going to be in the house with you…there's….a development."

His face went ashen. "Oh God, please tell me you're not getting married or something."

"No! Hell no…" she hesitated again before shrugged, looking away. "I'm not coming back alone, Tim. I met someone."

You met someone? He squinted. "Like a dude?"

"Yes, his name is Andy."

"What is he five? Does he have a propeller hat?"

She blew out a breath, exasperated. "His name is Andrew, everyone calls him Andy, and I'm not getting into it. As I said, we'll talk later when you're not in a weird place and I've got more time to talk about it. Ideally when we're face to face in person and not on a stupid iPhone." She smiled briefly. "Tim things are different now. They were never going to be Full House and me meeting someone and you and Garrity…that's just the way it was going to go."

Yeah, I know, but…he didn't know if he wanted to change the boys again. They were in such a happy little schedule. He hung his head. "Come back," he whispered. I really need you back Tyra. More than I ever thought I could. Four months had been long enough. He smiled, shakily. "I can't do this by myself."

She smiled. "You've done it by yourself the last four months. I know you thought…thought it, but I never doubted you. I don't doubt you now." She grinned. "This is just the world moving on Tim. It keeps turning and I miss my sister more than anything and every night I wish she was there for her boys instead of me, but the world moves on and we were going to move on with it."

Yeah. "I love you," he said.

Another smile. Tyra sighed, her eyes twinkling, so he knew she wasn't being sad on herself. Just teasing. "You say that more to me now when we're not dating than you ever said it when we did."

He briefly smiled. "I don't think I ever did say it when we were dating."

"No, you didn't. Not like I did either." Just went to show how we were with each other. She sighed hard. "I need to finish some studying. I'll call later when the boys are getting ready for bed. On the computer so I can read to them. Stevie and I are almost done with _Stuart Little_."

I've got to read the rest of some book for my English class. He was just taking the two courses at Dillon Tech. They were both online, which he detested, but at least he only had to go to a classroom twice every ten weeks. Once to sign in and once to take the final. He didn't explain it to Tyra and he wouldn't explain it to Lyla, because he was sure she would ask when she learned of him getting his Associate's. It was just Business Management. All he had to do was take some dumb English and Math classes long with the business courses.

Billy wanted him to get a degree so he could show his kids one day that he did it. That he did something. He hadn't and Billy hadn't fought him when he'd dropped out because he missed home and his 'me time' and all that. There was no such thing as 'me time' anymore and he couldn't complain about it. There was also no more Billy. He wanted the kids to think something of him other than he was their felon uncle who took over when Daddy died.

It was a long thought process, one he didn't feel like explaining to anyone. "I'll talk to you later."

"See you in a couple weeks. In person."

They disconnected at the same time. Tim looked through the open barn door. Lyla was talking to Angela, who seemed a bit more open to her now. Stevie was sitting on the paddock, feeding Thor an apple, and the twins were chasing each other with sticks. I should put a stop to that, he thought. He sighed. Not right now. He fell backwards into the hay, closing his eyes.

A few minutes later there was a scream. "Tim!" Stevie shouted. "Nicky took off his diaper and is running naked!" He paused. "Now Ricky is too!"

I really, really should look into that. He closed his eyes tighter. In a few minutes. Running naked never hurt a kid. Hell maybe it would cure that diaper rash problem they'd been having. Kids were so gross. He was never having kids.

"Hey! Tim! Ricky and Nicky are in the bushes! I think its poison ivy!"

Lyla now called out from the house. "Tim! We've got tears!" There was a very loud blubbering and crying. It was probably Nicky. He always put more emphasis on the sobs than Ricky did when he wanted attention.

Tim lurched to his feet. "I'm on it!" Back to the grind.


	17. Everything Stabilizes

**_16. ...Everything Stabilizes_**

Tami glanced around the small bungalow she found herself in, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the relative messy state it was in. That wasn't unexpected, as Tyra was in the process of moving. She reached for a box, lifting it onto the small kitchen pub table. "So," she drawled, glancing sideways as Tyra entered the room. She cleared her throat. No judging, Tami Taylor, she vowed. She unwrapped a coffee maker, setting it on the countertop. "How is this going to work, if I may ask?"

"I knew you were going to ask that." Tyra set the carafe into the coffee pot. She reached into her box, taking out a tea kettle and setting it on the small stove-top. She sighed hard. "Well it's going to work like if Tim and I had three kids and we divorced and we still had three kids."

"Are you sure that's wise? They've been through so much." Remember Tami, no judging; you don't know the full situation. She only knew what Tyra told her and what she managed to unearth from Eric who managed to unearth it from Tim. Which only meant she was getting a fourth of the full story.

Tyra shrugged, sighing again, her voice quiet. "I don't know if it's wise, but…it's what's best right now. We're working with Stevie's psychologist."

"He's still going to Dr. Amy?"

"Yeah. Tim hasn't slept with her yet, so she's still the psychologist."

Well that was an odd thing to say. Tami chuckled. "Was he planning on it or…?"

"Well not planning on it, but it's always a risk," Tyra said. She pulled her hair back from her face, knotting the short red strands into a short stub of a ponytail. She grabbed another box, unraveling dishes from newspaper, speaking. "At this point though, I have no idea what is going on with Tim. Something tells me he's had a love life since the accident, but I haven't seen it." She paused, looking over her shoulder. "I'm not jealous, before you start thinking that."

I know you're not jealous, I would think there's be more broken plates if that were the case, Tami thought. She set a coffee mug in a cabinet above the table. "Do the boys know about you moving back?"

"Yeah, we talked to them." Tyra walked over, helping with the coffee mugs. She set another one down, with markings all over it like a child had drawn on it. She turned it around slowly, her voice soft. "Do you realize that Stevie made this for me for Mother's Day? He didn't know what to do in class, so he painted on a mug for me. I think Elliot, his teacher, suggested he do it." She lifted her eyes. "When I got back we sat them down, explained they'd come stay with me sometimes and with Tim sometimes. I don't think they get it."

"I don't think they would, they've had a lot of changes this year," Tami said.

Tyra blew out a hard breath. "What do you suggest we do Mrs. T? I can't live with Tim…I have…" she trailed off, mumbling. "Had a boyfriend." She lifted her eyes again. "I'd like another one. I mean…Andy left when he realized that I wasn't in fact kidding about having three kids who were going to live with me. He didn't want to be a dad right now, can you believe that? Who said I wanted to be a mom, you know?" She bit her lower lip, mumbling. "I'm trying to do this and still have a life, does that make me selfish?"

No. It didn't. It made you human. "Honey there's a lot here in this situation that I just don't think anyone would be able to comprehend," she said, choosing her words carefully. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Mindy and Billy chose the best people they could think of to raise their boys and yet at the same time I think they have saddled you and Tim with a…a great burden." She paused, looking straight at Tyra. "The ability to have your lives and at the same time ensure the boys aren't confused." She waited another beat. "Do you have a schedule?"

"Not really."

"Well you should get one, Tyra. Stick to it. Make sure they know full well that on certain days they have Tim and on certain days you. Don't change from it unless you absolutely have to change it." She knew she was probably saying the same thing the psychologist was telling the two of them, which she gathered based on Tyra's loss of interest in the conversation, too busy turning the mug around in her hands. She cleared her throat. "I still can't believe Tim is okay with the psychologist," she said, trying to sound off-hand. It did surprise her he'd agreed so readily.

Tyra shrugged again, whispering. "He loves Stevie. He wouldn't go to one, but that doesn't mean Stevie can't." She lifted her eyes again to Tami. She cleared her throat. "Tim and Lyla are back together…and my boyfriend left me when he realized how hard it would be to have a girlfriend with three kids." She paused, chuckling and tossed her hair out of her eyes. "I shouldn't have screwed up with Landry."

I don't quite know what that means. Tami reached over, taking the mug out of her hand. "Come on," she said, taking her hand and leading her out of the house. She snagged the car keys to her rental and her purse. "We're getting out of this sad house."

"I thought you said you liked it!"

"I do, but it's too sad right now. Tyra sweetheart you have more coffee mugs than you do furniture, it's a sad house. We're going to get a drink."

"Mrs. T it's only four!"

"And Tim Riggins is probably drinking, so we're going to have one." Tami marched her to the car, pushing her into the passenger side. This was her little bit of a break from her family and she wasn't planning on spending it with sad Tyra. She had to cheer her up and make her see some things were still okay. Maybe she wasn't sure this was the greatest idea for the boys, but she wasn't the psychologist working with them. She was Tyra's version of a psychologist, as it were.

Tyra shifted in her seat. "I didn't mean to sound like I was moping."

"You weren't moping, you were feeling sorry for yourself."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Not exclusively." She drove out of Tyra's short driveway. The bungalow was located clear across town from Tim, right near the elementary school. It was a nice neighborhood, with plenty of children, from what she could see. She gestured to a house with several boys about Stevie's age tossing a football around. "It looks like stevie will make some friends around here."

Tyra nodded. "That's part of the problem with him being at Tim's all the time. No kids. Parents don't want to drive their kids all the way out there when the only adult for ten square miles is a former felon whose reputation in town is less than sterling." She chuckled. "Of course mine isn't the best around town either."

"I think your reputation is more than fine." Tami slowed at a stop sign, waited and then continued on towards Buddy's. She wasn't a bar-goer by any means. Give her a tall glass of red wine any day over a hard drink, but she wasn't a teetotaler either. She cleared her throat, waving her hand. "Now what's this nonsense I hear about Tim and Lyla?"

"It's not nonsense." Tyra sighed again, but it didn't seem like a maudlin sort of sigh. More of a 'here we go again' sigh. "She came back for something about a month ago. They're together but not together. It's kind of their…thing, I guess." She frowned. "Which is kind of funny because I'm hearing rumors that Tim was dating a police officer."

Well that was a match she really had trouble putting together. She shook her head briefly. "Well, if he's happy, Tyra. You can't convince him otherwise. You especially, he tends to ignore your advice."

"It's the brother and sister thing, I know."

She chuckled. "I was going to say it was the more of a best friends thing, but whatever you prefer." She drove by a sign welcoming them to 'The East Side of Dillon.' A moment later she pulled into the parking lot at Buddy's, unbuckling her seat belt. She nodded to the door. "Come on."

Tyra blinked. "You were serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well alright then." They went into the bar, where Tami led them to two empty stools at the bar. She glanced over at the bartender, who was Landry Clarke. She waved. Tyra set her purse on the bar, chuckling at Landry when he walked over, clearly surprised to see them. "We're on the prowl."

Tami shot her a look. "Well you might be, but I am happily married."

"Coach know you're here Mrs. Taylor?"

She drew back, a dark eyebrow arching. "Excuse me Mr. Clarke? Since when does my husband need to know where I am all the time?" She was just giving him crap, smiling briefly at his stutter and attempt at backtracking. She laughed, reaching over to rub gently at his arm. "Oh sweetheart I'm just messing with you. I would like a whiskey sour please."

He laughed. "Okay Mrs. Taylor. What about you Collette?"

Tyra shrugged, pointing to a series of clear bottles. "Whatever is in there."

"Most of it's water. Buddy's pretty cheap and doesn't stock the expensive stuff, just likes people to think he does." Landry glanced over as Lyla emerged from the back room. He nodded. "Hey."

Lyla made a sound of acknowledgment, glanced at her and Tyra, frowned, and then took one of the clear bottles, holding it up. "I'm off."

"Tim trouble?"

Lyla blew a strand of hair out of her face. She looked exhausted. She jabbed the bottle at Tyra, pointing with it. "Don't get me started."

Tyra called out as Lyla walked off towards the back door. "He better not be messed up right now!" All she got was a vacant hand wave. She reached for her cell phone, but Tami calmly reached over and took it. "Hey!"

Nope. You're not going to think about Tim right now. Despite several months in Chicago, Tami didn't suspect Tyra had really blown off steam. Tonight was a night where it was all about her. Blow off steam, don't feel sorry or guilty or anything like that. She shook it at Tyra. "You get this after you have fun. You've worked very hard, I'm very proud of you, but you also have too much on your mind and for once you get to let loose and have fun."

She frowned. "But Mrs. T, I mean…I do this stuff with Julie."

"Not tonight. Julie's got a deadline, plus she's in Chicago and I'm here and I'm on my version of a vacation. I'm helping you, I'm visiting Lorraine, and my husband is back in Philadelphia dealing with Gracie, who is currently going through what accounts for a teenage-time even though she's seven." Tami chuckled. Good luck to Eric. He'd made some crack about how easy it was now because they'd been through it once before. Then Gracie had done something Julie had never done as a child and totally ignored him, painting on the walls. She was letting him take care of that, know it all he claimed to be.

Landry passed them their drinks. He tapped the rim of Tyra's. "I know you are a vodka girl but since Lyla just walked off with the best stuff, you get gin."

"I hate gin."

"I put it in the form of a martini." He cocked his head, nudging it towards her. "Extra dirty, just like you."

Tyra shrugged, taking the drink and reached for the olives, muttering. "Fine."

"What's that?"

"Thank you."

"Good girl, that's what I like to hear. Now Buddy's going through some sort of remodeling process and he's taking my tips. So double please." Landry swatted Tyra's hand away from the dollar she'd shoved in a glass. "No takesies-backsies."

"Whatever."

This felt nice, but she did feel like she was missing an arm without Eric around somewhere. She sipped her drink, feeling the whiskey burn down her throat. Man it had been a long time since she'd had liquor. She shook her head, whooping. "Man Landry knows how to make a good drink."

Tyra had already finished most of her martini. She swallowed hard, shuddering. "That he does." She twirled it around and then spun on the stool, leaning her elbows back and looking across the relatively empty bar. She waved her drink around. "These are my pickings Mrs. T. Dillon, Texas."

"Becky found the love of her life in Dillon," she supplied, trying to be helpful.

"Becky is also living in Germany and she sent me a postcard from Greece where she's on her third honeymoon." Tyra sipped her drink again. "Becky doesn't count."

Tyra set the drink back down, glancing over her shoulder. "Landry, where's that girl you're dating?"

"Back in Austin, why?"

"No reason."

Landry reached over and finished her drink for her. She made a face and he reached for the shaker, grinning. "I'm going to have to catch up if you want a second round with me."

She laughed. "Yeah. We're both going to need a few."

Tami smiled at them both. She had enjoyed them together. Whatever had gone wrong, she wasn't sure they could overcome it, but no one said Tyra had to find her soulmate right now. She wasn't even thirty. Not everyone met their Eric or their Matt Saracen. She looked over at Lyla Garrity, who was storming out of the bar. "Lyla, sweetie where are you going?"

Lyla jerked open the door, glaring at Tyra. "Do you want him?"

"I told you we're guardians of our nephews, nothing more, but thanks for the offer." Tyra cocked her head, frowning. "What'd he do?"

"Don't get me started." The door swung shut as Lyla stormed out. Weird.

Well this was interesting. Tami glanced at the calendar hanging behind the bar, next to the register. It was mid-June. "The boys out of school?" she asked. She wanted to confirm some things.

"Yup. Stevie completed his first year of kindergarten, the twins still aren't potty-trained even though they recently celebrated their third birthday and the preschool Tim managed to suck up enough to has preemptively kicked them out." She turned, grinning, her eyes crinkled, but her voice full of sarcasm. "I have preschool rejects as nephews. That is not their Collette heritage."

No it's clearly Riggins. She swallowed some of her whiskey, briefly remembering something she'd read in Tim's file many, many years ago. "You know Tim skipped preschool…skipped kindergarten too now that I remember."

Tyra snorted. "Sure."

No he did. There was intelligence in that family, it just didn't show itself often. She shrugged, thinking of Stevie. He seemed fairly advanced. "Stevie still have his book?" she asked, remembering the book. He had to be on a different version now.

Tyra nodded, her voice soft. "We want to look at them. He keeps them in a box under his bed. Only people who have seen inside them are the psychologist and Lyla…" she trailed off, whispering. "She's replacing me."

It was so offhanded…it broke Tami's heart even more to hear it sound that way. She shook her head, moving closer to Tyra, her arm going around her shoulder, whispering. "She is not replacing you, don't you dare think that."

It didn't matter. Tyra had already hung her head, tears welling in her eyes. Maybe alcohol wasn't the best thing right now. She sniffed, hiccupping as she held back the tears. "She is Mrs. Taylor. I went to get my Master's so I could get a good job and get good money and be a good person and still do what I wanted to do and do it for the boys and somehow I come back and Tim's back in love with her and she's living with him and Stevie shows her the book and she's going to end up potty-training the boys for all I know."

Oh honey. She rubbed at her shoulder, resting Tyra's head against the crook of her neck. "There, there Tyra. That's not true at all. They love you. You're their aunt, you're their guardian…don't think of Lyla as replacing them. She's just one more person who loves them."

"They listen to Tim over me."

Well they were boys. Boys tended to do that with other men. "It's a boy thing," she said, by way of explanation, glossing over it quickly. She squeezed Tyra again, her voice soft. "Don't think of it as replacement," she repeated. She wished she could do more than just speak to her. Wished she could honestly do something. She turned her head, looking at Landry, who was watching them, hesitating slightly before falling back. She reached her finger towards him, crooking it and beckoning him.

He slowly walked over. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Tyra mumbled. She sniffed again, looking up at him. She hiccupped. "You don't think Tim's replacing me, do you?"

Landry shook his head. He did it slow enough that it didn't seem like an automatic response to make her feel better. It perked Tyra up a bit, who waited for his answer. He glanced at her. Tami nodded. Go on, that's why I called you over. He reached over, lightly tapping his fingers on her wrist. "Tim isn't replacing you. He's been alone for a long, long time. Without you here, he's been going kind of crazy."

"Really?"

"Well yeah, I mean, he was always forgetting things and…and I probably shouldn't tell you this, but he left Stevie here and didn't realize it for about five hours."

Tyra smiled, still quavering a bit. "He did? He didn't tell me that."

"Well why would he?"

"And it's not just the new parents," Tami said, chuckling. She shrugged. "Eric left Gracie in a playroom at the mall. He dropped her off for an hour to get things and just left. Came home, took off his shoes, and then went flying off when he realized it. Tim's just coping." I hope that made you feel a bit better, even though she knew Eric would be mortified if he knew she'd admitted it.

It had Landry smiling at her again. "And he still hasn't gotten the twins potty-trained. He's been trying for months. I think you're going to be the one to do it. Not even Lyla, who was just in here grabbing a bottle of vodka because she's as stressed out as everyone else."

Thank you Landry, she thought, smiling briefly at him as he spoke for a few more minutes with Tyra. She slid off the stool, leaving them and walking down the back hallway, going up the stairs to the upstairs office. She knocked on the open door, seeing Buddy Garrity going through books at his desk. "Hey there Buddy," she drawled.

"Tami Taylor," he exclaimed, jumping up and hurrying around to give her a hug and a scratchy beardy kiss on the cheek. She chuckled. Same old Buddy. "What can I do you for? Take a seat there. Drinks are on the house."

"Well I already paid."

"Well next time then." Oh that's cheap and yet also nice of you, she thought, sitting across from him as he took his seat back in the tall chair behind the desk. He moved some folders out of the way, turning the computer screen away from her gaze, as she glanced at the numbers. Nice numbers there Buddy. "Just work stuff, you wouldn't be interested," he chuckled.

She smiled briefly. "Well it's been awhile, not since Christmas I think. Eric isn't here with me this visit."

"That's too bad, maybe we can snag him for opening game next year?"

It was so casually, yet almost pleadingly, asked. Tami smiled again. They were talking about their next trip down here. Most often it was for Lorraine. She wanted to help Matt as much as they physically could. Her schedule as a Dean was jam-packed and she rarely had time, but she made it work. Just like this little getaway was worked out months in advance. She cocked her head, looking straight at Buddy. "How is Tim doing?"

Buddy faltered, but quickly smiled. "Fine. He's fine."

"Good. He's not overwhelmed?"

"No, why do you ask that?"

No reason. I'm just starting to wonder. She spoke with Buddy for a few more minutes, assured him she'd ask Eric about the opening game next year and received more assurances from Buddy that Tim was perfectly fine and it would be good to have Tyra back, but he was fine. She left Buddy, going back to the bar, where Tyra and Landry were sitting together at a table, laughing. She picked up her keys, waving at Tyra, who barely seemed to notice her. She wasn't sure if that was the intent of taking Tyra out, but at least the other woman was happy and smiling. Two things Tami hadn't seen in her earlier.

She drove away from the bar, taking the long roads and empty highways towards Tim's house. She parked behind his new truck, climbing out and walking up to the porch, frowning at the emptiness. The horse was gone from the paddock. She glanced to the side of the house, seeing him walking the horse and one arm around the twins, who were seated tandem in the saddle. She glanced at Stevie, who was beneath a tree, coloring. "Hmm," she murmured, hopping off the porch and walking over to him, waving when he lifted his head at the sound of her feet crunching on the dry grass. "Hey Stevie."

"Hi." He looked up, shy. "Who are you?"

"I'm Aunt Tami, remember me from Christmas? I live in Philadelphia."

It dawned on Stevie. "The bell." She had explained to him that there was a big bell in Philadelphia, the Liberty Bell, and there was a big crack in it. She was pleased to see he remembered. He smiled. "Hello."

"Hello," she laughed. She stretched her legs out in front of her, tapping on the binding of his book. He had closed the cover when she'd come close. "Is this yours?" Be careful Tami, don't force it.

"Yeah."

"Ah…do you draw a lot in it?"

"Yeah…sometimes." Stevie opened up the book, turning to a bunch of blank pages in the back. He picked up a crayon, looking up and over to the twins and Tim. "They are on the horse. The horse's name is Thor." He wrinkled his nose. "I like Thor but he's smelly." He grumbled, starting to draw on the page. "The twins smell too."

Tami smiled. She waited in silence, her eyes on the careful drawing Stevie was beginning. She took a deep breath, her voice soft. "Do you live in this big house?"

He nodded. "I have my room." He paused on the drawing, mumbling. "I get two rooms now."

"Oh? Two rooms?"

"Yeah…I'm gonna' stay with Aunt Tyra sometimes." He looked up at her, frowning a little. "My best friend Angelo has two rooms. His daddy has a house and his mommy has a house and he goes to both rooms sometimes. He gets two birthday gifts and two Christmas trees." He sighed. "Aunt Tyra used to live with us."

"But she doesn't live with you?"

"No…Tim and Tyra told me they love me." He paused again, before picking up another crayon. "But they can't live in the same house. That's stupid. Mommy and Daddy lived in the same house." He sniffed. "I don't have a Mommy and Daddy."

Poor baby. She moved a little closer, taking everything slowly so as not to startle him. All she wanted to do was pull him into a big hug and wish everything would be okay. He was handling this well though. He had it down in his head the way psychologist liked kids with two residences to have it in their head. Mommy and Daddy love you but we don't live together anymore. You get two rooms. All your own room. She took a deep breath. "I know you don't."

"They died. Tyra is my new Mommy and Tim is my new Daddy."

Good. He said Tyra. "Does anyone else live with you and Tim?" she asked.

"Sometimes Miss Lyla, but not all the time." He smiled again. "I like Miss Lyla. She smells nice. She smells like cookies." He chose another color crayon. "Tyra said I get the big room in her house. We go there tomorrow I think."

Hopefully Tyra had everything unpacked. She'd help her more later. "Do you miss your Mommy and Daddy?" Tami began to see the image he was drawing. It was very good. It was a house. Looked remarkably liked Tim's.

"I do. Sometimes. I love Tim and Tyra. I live with them now." He whispered. "Sometimes I say Tim is my Daddy." He sniffed again, his lips quivering. "And Tyra is my Mommy but they are not."

Tami chose that moment to wrap her arm around his hsoulders. He relaxed immediately against her. "They kind of are Stevie," she whispered, stroking his blond hair. He kept drawing. She took a deep breath. "And they love you very much, even if they live in two houses."

"I know."

"It won't be so bad. I think it's all going to be okay."

"Santa found us at the new house. I think Santa will know where we are."

The important things for children, she thought, chuckling. "Are you going to play football?" she asked.

Stevie nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I am. Look." He turned the pages in the book to one of the first ones, pointing. "That's me. That's Tim. That's my football. Tim says I'm gonna' be quarterback."

And that, Tami thought, nodding along as Stevie continued to show her the drawings in his book, was one of the bigger compliments you could get from Tim Riggins. She sat patiently, going through every single drawing with Stevie. They were all very good and she noticed when he was angry or sad when he was drawing. Others were happier. Some were just colors and shapes. Some were detailed drawings. Some were his dreams, he said, and some were copied pictures from cereal boxes. It was his mind, she thought, turning pages with him. It was just the way he was coping with the stress.

She looked up as a shadow fell over them. "Hey Mrs. Taylor," Tim greeted her. He lifted the twins off the saddle. "Say hi to Mrs. T, guys."

She waved at the twins. They were huge compared to the last time she saw them. "Hello little gentlemen," she said, standing up. She smiled at Tim, who was looking around. "Tyra is with Landry, she's feeling stressed out. Lyla is off drinking."

"Uh-oh. What?"

"Vodka."

He cringed, mumbling. "Knew that was going to come back at me."

She arched an eyebrow. "What did you say to her?"

"Told her I didn't need her help with the twins. She got…upset."

Well maybe Lyla did need to be told off about helping with the twins. She could appreciate Tim's desire to do this on his own. She smiled. "Word of the wise Tim. Never push away help. Especially with three children. Tyra will be by tomorrow. I'll make sure of it and you're both going to potty-train those twins. No more coddling them."

He hesitated. "I'm not…coddling them." He seemed to test the word, like he didn't know what it was. He took a deep breath, mumbling. "It's hard to say no to them."

Tami cocked her head, her voice firm. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Stevie and the twins walking to the house. She could get away with this now. "You are their guardian, Tim. You cannot coddle them. It is painful, but the problem I notice is you and Tyra are so involved in your own personal demons you are letting the kids get away with murder. I think you discipline them fine, but you need to set the boundaries and with two houses now and shuttling them back and forth, you need to do it more than normal." She took a deep breath. "Starting with your relationship with Lyla. They get you and Tyra, they know that one, but you need to make it clear what her role is because if she leaves and those kids are attached, you have bigger problems."

She continued, knowing she sounded harsh, but Tim needed it. "And I know you are a good dad to them. I know you're making them eat healthy and you're getting Stevie involved in football, but you need to be even firmer now. They are going to get even testier with you now that there are two houses to go back and forth."

Tim nodded, whispering. "I know."

"Good."

"Where's Tyra?"

Tami smiled again. "She's with Landry. She'll be okay." She turned, leaving Tim and saying goodbye to the kids, getting in her car and returning to Tyra's bungalow. She went into the house, going upstairs to find Tyra painting a room pale blue. "Is this Stevie's?"

"Yup, I gave him the biggest room." Tyra blew hair out of her face, smiling. "Thanks for the drink Mrs. T. I needed it and I feel a little better now." She took another paint brush, starting on the edging around the window pane. She waved the brush a bit. "And Landry is going to get us all passes to the festival in Austin in a few weeks. I think it'll be fun. Kids can get away."

Tami took the brush from her, starting to paint where Tyra had left off. "Why don't you get a roller and start on that other wall? I'll get this." She painted in silence, as Tyra rolled the other wall. She glanced over her shoulder. Tyra would be fine. "I'm glad you're moving on, sweetheart. Don't get hung up on that Andy guy. You'll find someone, but right now you've got the boys."

"I do." Tyra moved down the wall, laughing. "I guess my prospects have diminished slightly with three kids." She paused, whispering. "We're only three months away."

Tami knew exactly what she was talking about. It was amazing how much could change in a year. "I know," she whispered, keeping the brush even along the edge of the window trim. She dipped it back into the paint can, keeping her eyes on the work so she didn't screw up and get it on the white trim. "You both will be better every single year."

"Tim's going to lose it."

"Don't think of him. Think of yourself." You've been thinking too much of him. His emotions. You owe it to yourself to think of yours. Tami set the brush on the rim of the can, wiping her hands on a rag before she ran it along the edge to pick up extra speckles of blue paint on white. She sighed. "And remember I'm always around."

"Could really use you back in Texas Mrs. T."

I think you could, but that's part of the problem. Tami shrugged. "I'm only a phone call away." A moment later she felt Tyra come up behind her, hugging tight. She smiled, turning and squeezing her hard. She knew Tyra needed this. It wasn't like Angela was the warmest mother. The good thing she noticed was Tyra wasn't crying. Just hugging. Good. We're already one step ahead, she thought, squeezing her surrogate daughter harder.


	18. Your Soulmate is Closer Than You Think

_**18. ...Your Soulmate Is Closer Than You Think**_

"Aunt Tyra?"

"Yeah sweetie?" She reached over to Ricky, who was eating with his fingers, taking the large plastic fork and wrapped his hand around it. "Eat like a boy. Not a monkey."

"I'm a monkey," he said.

"No, you're not. You're a little boy, so eat like one." I hate family dinners, she thought, glancing at Stevie. She patted his wrist, seeing his frustrated look at his brothers, who kept interrupting him with their poor behavior. "I'm sorry Stevie, what were you saying? I'm listening."

He shook his head, reaching for his milk glass. "Nothing."

She glanced at him. He was getting pushed too far to the side because of the twins. She sighed, looking at her plate. It was getting expensive to eat out, she'd really have to learn to cook. She stood up, walking into the kitchen and took the phone, turning to check on the boys as she punched Tim's number. "Hey," she said, when he answered. She sighed. "Is Stevie not finishing his sentences with you?"

"Tyra I'm busy."

"I don't care, this is about Stevie."

He seemed to shrug. "I don't know. I guess. Make sure Nicky runs around without the diaper tonight, I think he's close."

"Well he better be because Ricky peed once in the toilet but he still doesn't understand that that doesn't mean the fake plant in my living room." At least he'd aimed well. If only it was in the bathroom.

Tim snorted. "Yeah, don't get me started on that. Tyra it's my night, okay? Can we talk later?"

"Are you getting laid tonight?"

"What do you think?" He hung up on her when she was about to say that yeah, he probably was, or it sounded like it at least. She shrugged, putting the phone back, looking to the boys again. They were actually behaving themselves. Shock. The twins sat at the table now instead of high chairs. They had booster seats. Stevie was actually…well he wasn't taunting them like he normally did. Things were looking up, she thought with a smile. I can totally do this on my own.

Ricky let out a scream, crying when Stevie threw a piece of chicken nugget at him. "Mama!" he cried, reaching for her. He pointed. "Tyra! Bad Stevie!"

Their interchangeable use of Mom and Tyra freaked her out. She'd ahd to listen for both versions of it and it didn't seem to matter when they flipped it. The one thing she did notice was they always went back. They never spent very long calling her 'mom.' She rolled her eyes. "Steven, why did you do that?"

"I dunno."

"Well apologize."

"Sorry."

She made a face, wiping at Ricky's hands and taking the offending piece of chicken nugget, throwing it into the garbage. She returned, her hands to her hips. I feel like my mother, she thought. Well, when she was a kid Angela mostly got frustrated and the same look of annoyance when she ran out of cigarettes or money. Just stay calm, she thought. "Apologize and mean it."

"I do," he laughed. He looked away. It was the same tell as her when she was lying about something. He rolled his eyes upward, his lashes thick and dark, shielding his irises. He smiled slyly. "I mean it."

My ass you mean it. "Apologize."

"I'm sorry Ricky," he said. He made another face, climbing out of his chair, mumbling. "You big baby." She closed her eyes. Ricky, thankfully, didn't hear it. I don't want to fight it. She helped the twins out of their seats, taking their empty plates. She snapped her finger at the little stool. "You're helping me with dishes. Hand them to me while I wash them off." She didn't have a dishwasher. I have got to bother Tim about getting one for me.

Stevie scowled, but did as she asked. "Do I get 'llowence?"

"No, my mom didn't pay me to do chores so I'm not going to pay you." She held her finger when he looked at her and opened his mouth to protest. "Ah! Let me finish." She smiled, washing a plate beneath the faucet. "I will give you an allowance if you can be nice for a whole day to your brothers."

He frowned. "How much?"

"I'll give you five bucks if you an do it on Friday. We'll see if it works." She did not think it would work. She finished with the dishes, listening to Stevie chatter about how he wanted to have his best friend Angelo come over for the weekend, because Tim wouldn't let him last week. Yeah, he did that because you'd tried to put Nicky in the toilet to get him potty-trained, she thought. It was punishment.

When they finished, she went into the living room, where the twins had been knocking over their giant Lego sets. She picked up Nicky and took a deep breath. "Okay," she muttered. Here goes nothing. She dropped his trousers and took off the diaper. "Run free."

"No pants."

"You don't have pants."

He looked up, frowning. "Why?"

Tyra rolled her eyes, disposing of the diaper and leaving the pants on the stairs to get taken up to the hamper. "Why not? You're a Riggins, you guys take off your pants at every opportunity."

He shrugged, taking off and shrieking, Ricky running to join him. Thankfully, to be like his brother, Ricky disposed his undergarments as well. Good. Maybe they'll train tonight, she hoped. She took Stevie, turning on the television. "Let's watch some more of your nature show and then maybe we can all go outside."

"I guess."

She smiled sideways. He was sitting beside her, hugging one of the couch cushions. "You okay?" she asked. She flicked on the television, scrolling to the nature show Stevie enjoyed so much. She barely moved when Ricky and Nicky ran into the room, giggled at them and took off to the small nook between the kitchen and the living room where she'd put most of their toys. She shouted over the back of the couch. "Do you guys have to go to the bathroom?"

"No," they shouted.

Damn. I will beat Tim at this. It was becoming a matter of principle. She settled back into the couch and waited until Stevie had reclined back against her, watching the program with rapt attention. It was about elephants today. "I want an elephant," he said, as a baby threw dirt over its back to cool off and trumpeted, almost like a loud giggle.

"You have your brothers."

"They're not elephants."

"You have Tim."

"He isn't one either," he giggled, turning his head at the doorbell ring. His eyes widened. "Someone's here! I want to get it!" He sprang up, running to the door. He carefully pulled back the curtain of the window, peeking out and then jumped up. "Oh goodie!"

Who was it? Please don't be Tim, she silently thought, heaving herself up from the couch. "Who is it?" she asked, stopping at the entrance to the living room from the small entry way. She smiled, seeing their visitor. "Hey Landry."

Landry entered the house, holding his battered guitar case. It was covered in various patches and stickers. He smiled, fist-bumping Stevie. "Hey, how's it hanging?"

"It's okay."

"Well that's good, you want to practice?" he asked, lifting up the guitar.

Stevie's eyes lit up. He nodded quickly, running away from them both and up the stairs, shouting that he would be down in a second. I guess I'm going to be drinking a glass of wine with an Advil tonight, she thought. Stevie wasn't bad at the guitar, he just…he liked being perfect and music was not his strong suit. She smiled quickly at Landry. "You didn't want to call?" she asked. She didn't mean it to sound accusatory, but he totally took it that way.

He scowled. "Would you have let me stop by?"

When did we start doing this again? She sighed, turning around and walking over to the couch, sinking down onto her side of the couch. She lifted her head, just in time for Nicky to run by her. She glanced is direction, her eyes widening. "Oh my God!"

Landry followed her down the hall. "What are you doing? Why doesn't he have pants?" He nodded almost immediately after speaking. "Nevermind, he's a Riggins."

"They just like relaxing." She leaned on the wall, peeking into the bathroom as Nicky stood in front of one of the little potty-training toilets she'd bought. Her eyes widened. She grabbed at Landry, staring. "He's going to do it," she mumbled, staring as he waited a moment.

And then giggled and ran out, taking his pants from the stairs. "Put them on please," he ordered her. She deflated. Damnit! She walked over to him and helped him with the pants. Fine. Whatever. Maybe later.

Landry shook his head. "I don't know what's going on here, but it's weird."

"I'm potty-training them. All the books say they'll do it when they're ready but I'm starting to wonder if it's psychological." She reutnred to the couch, as Landry sat down in the oversized chair, setting his guitar on the ottoman. He removed it and began to tune the strings. She smiled a little. He was incredibly attractive with the guitar. "So when do you guys play the festival or whatever you ended up getting?"

"We're doing SXSW," he mumbled. He looked up, grinning broadly. "Haven't told a lot of people. One of the young artists shows."

SXSW! Oh my God! She laughed, clapping her hands. "Oh my God! Landry that's wonderful! Oh I want to hug you, but…" she trailed off, hesitating. Until she jumped up and threw herself on top of him, falling back into the couch and laughing, her feet kicking in the air. She was so happy! That was the biggest music festival in the country. It lasted a week and had attracted national attention. She wanted to cry. She sniffed, kissing his cheek. "Congratulations. I love you."

It slipped out, she didn't even know she'd said it. Until she didn't feel Landry returning the hug, which he'd given loosely. Probably too stunned she'd jumped him. She pulled her head back, studying him. He was staring straight at her. Unseeing, almost. Like he was going through her. She sighed. There was just…she took a deep breath and placed her hand on his cheek, leaning in and kissed him. She broke the kiss a moment later, but not after she felt him leaning into her and return it. He pulled his lips in for a moment, dropping his gaze. He glanced away and then up to her again, patting the small of her back and moving slowly from under her. "I should see what's keeping Stevie."

She fell into the couch, touching her fingers to her lips and followed him up the stairs until he'd disappeared from view. Wow. What the hell…she closed her eyes. Wow. It wasn't like she'd thought of it. Landry wasn't in her picture. He wasn't in her future either but as a friend. Just a friend. He had a girlfriend, he wasn't interested in her…she sighed again. What the hell did this mean now?

Her thoughts broke at the sound of the doorbell. "It's Grand Central in here," she mumbled, getting up and going to answer it. This time she didn't check and just pulled open the door, closing her eyes. "Momma."

Angela jumped into the house, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug. "Hello sweetheart, I was in the neighborhood."

"You live nowhere near me. I told you no random visits."

"I want to see my grandsons." She clapped her hands, jumping in place when Ricky and Nicky appeared. "Hello little boys! Give Grandma a hug!" She knelt down and gave them Chanel lipstick covered smooches, reaching into her bag and passed them candy, which Tyra knew she should take away from them, but she wasn't in the mood to fight with her mom. That's how much she didn't want to do it. She was willing to risk insane sugar highs and crashes in two three-year olds. Angela straightened up, glancing at the guitar. "Is Landry here?" Her eyes widened. "Oh! Are you two dating?"

She frowned. Good Lord. Angela jumped to conclusions. "No Mom, we're not. He's giving Stevie guitar lessons."

"I thought Tim was doing that?"

"Tim plays drums, Mom, I do not want Stevie learning drums." I have headaches enough from the constant chattering and the terrible guitar playing. She rubbed her temple. "Ma, what's going on? You want a drink?" Might as well get comfortable, Angela had already taken off her four-inch sandals and was cracking her toes into the carpet.

Angela nodded, leaning down to help Nicky with the wrapper on his Snickers. She handed her the wrapper, taking a bottle of wine from the fridge. "I'll get it Tyra, you sit down. You've been on your feet."

That was nice. She sat down, still wary. Angela always had ulterior motives. "So what's going on Mom?" She leaned up, looking through the kitchen's open eat-in area to the nook. The boys had chocolate smeared on their faces and were playing with their chalkboard. Good. Quiet play. For once.

"Nothing is going on." She peered over the rim of her wine glass, rather shrewd. She took a sip of wine, swallowed, and cleared her throat. "I saw Lyla Garrity at the pharmacy today."

Well that was nice. "Oh yeah? What's Lyla up to in the pharmacy?" She was being sarcastic. Angela had decided to play matchmaker again with her and Tim. It wasn't the first. Wouldn't be last. They both kind of went into it to make Angela happy and soon she lost interest with it.

Angela sat next to her at the tiny bistro table in the corner where the kids usually ate breakfast. She sipped her wine again, paused dramatically and turned her bright gaze on her again. "She was getting a prescription. I tried to see what it was and I did. Do you know what it was?"

"No Mom and I don't care, that's Lyla's personal business."

It didn't stop Angela. "She was getting birth control pills. Can you imagine?"

"Clearly she doesn't want to get pregnant, I honestly don't know who would at this point." She loved her nephews. More than anything. She was their mother, but…she was definitely not mother material. It was something she'd had to work on and would always need to work on. It just wasn't natural for her like it was for Lyla or…or Mindy, she thought, swallowing a lump forming at the thought of her sister.

"Well that means she must be having sex with Tim Riggins."

"Mom, seriously, stop."

"I know those girls Angela, sweetheart, and I know what they do to men like Tim." She leaned over the table, tapping a long red nail on the table for emphasis. "She gets her claws into him and then leaves him at the first opportunity after using him as a toy. You need to put a stop to it if you expect him to fall in love with you and sweetheart, you need to do something with your hair, I don't know why it's this short again, I mean it was so lovely when it was long." She flipped the ends over, smiling softly. "What if you dyed it a nice honey blonde? Maybe get some bangs…you could marry Tim and…and move back in together."

I know what you're doing. She shook her head, whispering. "Mom I'm not Mindy." It hurt to say it that way. So cruelly. Even if she didn't snap or shout the words or mean them in such a manner. She lifted her eyes, seeing Angela's horrified look. Oh Mom. "I'm sorry," she whispered, shaking her head. I'm so sorry. She reached for her mother's hand, but Angela pulled it back sharply, tightening it into a fist on her knee. She looked away, shaking. "Mom!"

"Don't!" Angela cried, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't fight as Tyra knelt and wrapped her arms around her. She sniffed, crying. "I'm sorry…I miss her so much."

I miss her too. More than anything at this point. "I know," she murmured. She lifted her face, smiling shakily. Tears wavered in her vision. "Mom I miss her too, but…I can't become her. I can't…I can't do it. That's not me." I'm not a mother at heart. I have to learn. She sniffed and hiccupped, holding the tears back or else she'd collapse. "Mom I can't marry a Riggins and have the kids and…and do my hair like Mindy or be Mindy. I'm Tyra."

Angela nodded quickly, whispering. "I know you're Tyra. You're my baby. My baby who…who did so well for herself. You're getting a Master's and I don't even have a high school diploma," she laughed. She wiped at her eyes, sniffing again. "I'm so sorry I just…I miss her. It would be easier if you just…if you and Tim could find it in yourselves…"

She shook her head again, whispering. "Mom." She sat back in the chair, pulling it forward and took Angela's hands into hers. Like she was speaking to a small child. "Mom we're better friends. It will be better for the boys in the long run. I love him. I love him so much, he's my…" She thought it corny, because she didn't believe in soulmates, but she was sure Tim was her version of a soulmate. She shrugged. "He's kind of like my soulmate Mom." Becky explained her theory of it to her once. They'd had a few too many drinks at Buddy's during Becky's bridal shower and she'd explained all about soulmates. How you could miss them sometimes, because they could be in Sri Lanka or some ridiculous place. But then sometimes there they were and sometimes they weren't lovers but your best friend. People you are meant to spend the rest of your life with but maybe not in a romantic way.

She'd made a crack how Tim's soulmate must have been Jason Street if that definition could hold true. Angela smiled shakily. "Really?" she murmured. "And not in a love way?"

She shook her head, smiling and whispering. "No Momma. Not the way you might want. It works for us." She took her wine glass, gulping. It was kind of necessary right now. She set it with a clink. This was not how I wanted to spend my night. I hope it works for her now, she thought, glancing at her mother, who was staring into space. Poor Angela. "Mom do you want to spend the night?" she asked.

Angela glanced at her. "If I can."

"You're always welcome." She stood up, leaving Angela and went to get the twins, depositing them with her mother. I hope that cheers her up. She wanted to go over to the house to make sure Angela was still on her anti-depressants. It seemed like she was just in a bit of a funk tonight. Missing Mindy, so she came over. Tried to make things better in the way she'd think would help her.

Even if it was a bit on the not right side. She went upstairs, seeing Stevie with Landry. He glanced at her, but didn't smile. He looked at Stevie, tapping the music book. "Keep doing this one. Okay, just the way you are." It was the same chord over and over again.

Stevie nodded, focusing intensely on the book and his tiny fingers moving on the strings in the same chord. It kept tripping him up so he kept moving his little hands, focusing again. Landry stood up and left the room. She followed him, frowning at his back. Where was he going? She sidestepped into the twins room, cocking her head. "You okay?" He seemed off. She widened her eyes and lifted her brows. "Are we okay?"

"I don't know. You're kissing me when you're telling your mom Tim is your soulmate." He snapped. "You should really let Lyla know. She's basically engaged to him at this point. Does Tim even know? He's such a martyr I'm sure he'd dump Lyla and be with you."

I doubt that at this point. But Landry was right on the Tim was a martyr observation. She scowled. "Are you smoking something in there with my nephew?" She smirked, trying to lighten up whatever foul mood he'd fallen into. "Because I could sure use some right now, what with my depressed mother downstairs wanting me to become my dead sister."

He shook his head, still scowling. "This isn't funny, Tyra. You grow bored with everything within minutes. You don't want to do it and you don't. You whine about it instead. You might have gotten out and gotten a degree and had your plans and all that, but you're still a user and I'm not going to be your little patch while you wait on Tim to finish with his Lyla obsession."

Okay this was no longer joking. She closed the door, rounding on him and jabbed him in the shoulder. "I am not going to sit here and listen to you get all high and mighty on me again and put me down. You do that more than you say anything nice about me and I'm sick of it. For the record Landry if you weren't listening in on half the conversation you'd know I said Tim was my soulmate because we're best friends and we love each other and I would take a bullet for him just like he would for me. Because we love each other so much we're bad for each other, you probably wouldn't get that." She took a deep breath and then let it out, deflated. I can't do this. I'm too tired. She shook her head and turned. "You know Landry, I'm done explaining myself to you. Have a nice life, good luck at SXSW because I am proud of how far you've come and kept your dreams and that, and I'll give you a check for Stevie's lessons. Later."

She took one step to the door and felt him grab her arm, jerking her around and kissing her again. Whoa. She gripped his shoulders and returned the kiss. Wow. Landry pulled away as quick as he'd started. She blinked. He scowled again. "You're infuriating." He let go fo her and opened the door. "I have to get back to Stevie." He looked down at the sight of Nicky in the hallway, missing his pants again. He shook his head and glared at her. "And you owe me for this."

I owe you for what, she felt like snapping. She walked into the hall, watching Landry pick Nicky up from under his arms, carting him across the hall to the bathroom. She stood in the doorway, looking at him. "What…" she mumbled.

Landry turned Nicky to the kiddie potty and pointed. "You go pee here. No more in the diaper. You're three. You're a big boy. Be a big boy and go to the bathroom where everyone else does."

Nicky stuck his fingers in his mouth and nodded. He giggled and looked at Tyra. Then he turned around and promptly used the bathroom like a normal person. She stared. Oh my God. He clapped his hands. "I did it!"

"Holy shit," she blurted out.

"I have to wash my hands," Nicky chirped, climbing on a stool and stuck his hands under the faucet, waiting for Landry to get the temperature correct before he scrubbed them and then wiped them on a towel. "All done."

"You did it," she whispered. She gaped at him. "How…"

Landry shrugged. "I guess he needed a wake-up call." Maybe it was psychological, she thought. She shrugged. But then they would have listened to Tim. He'd tried everything. He looked at Stevie, who was standing in the doorway of his room, glaring angrily at them. "Sorry man, let's get back to practice."

She remained in place as Landry went back to Stevie's lesson. Nicky ran by her again, shouting how he was now a big boy. She went downstairs, taking Nicky with her and put the gate up so neither could return upstairs. Angela had Ricky in her lap with a large pop-up book. "Nicky just used the bathroom like big boy," she said. Still numb. She shook her head, whispering. "Landry did it."

"Sometimes they just need a good talking to, right Nicky?"

"Right," he agreed, sitting beside her.

I have to call Tim. She went into the kitchen and grabbed her phone, calling him. It rang a couple of times and he answered. "Yeah?"

"I thought you were getting laid."

"It's on hold right now. What are you doing?"

"Landry told Nicky to use the bathroom like a normal kid and he did. Landry is going to be in the biggest music festival in the country. I kissed Landry. Landry overheard me tell my mom you're my soulmate. Landry got upset and we made up and kissed again and now I don't know where we stand." She waited a beat. Tim said nothing. She cleared her throat. "And my mom is missing Mindy and wants me to make my hair just like her." That about covers it. She dumped the remaining wine bottle into a juice glass and threw it down her throat like a shot.

There was still nothing from Tim. Until he cleared his throat. "You would look terrible with Mindy's hair color."

I know! She blinked and swallowed hard. "That's all you have to say to me?"

"Lyla and I are going to get married."

Oh, well then. "That's nice. When?" He was just being stupid, she was sure of it.

"In two weeks. She's going to school in Austin. She wants to be a doctor. To be a pediatrician and help kids who die of simple diseases in Africa when they could be helped. That sort of a thing."

So he wasn't kidding. She wasn't sure what to make of that. She swallowed hard. "Okay."

"Will you be my best man?"

Tears flooded her vision. Oh Tim. "I miss Billy," she whispered. It hit her hard, like a ton of bricks. She almost fell down from the sudden shock. Like ice water dumped on her head. I miss Mindy. "I want them here." So many big things. Landry and her…whatever that was. Landry got a gig that meant something. Nicky could use the big boy potty…she wanted to cry and sob for days. She licked her lips, whispering. "Billy would be…"

"I know," he said. His voice was thick. "I want him back. But I have you. Will you do it?"

You could have told me in person. "You could have told me in person," she said, repeating her thought.

"I could have. I wanted to cheer you up."

"It did."

He chuckled, whispering. "I love you." I love you too. She sniffed again and he sighed, teasing returning to his voice. "And Landry again? Geez Collette, you can't find a real guy? You have to keep going to your ex-boyfriends?"

Asshole. "Shut up."

"Lyla's drunk right now. She's talking to the horse like he's going to speak to her. He's her maid of honor."

"Shut up Tim!"

Tyra burst into a laugh. Poor Lyla, stuck with him forever. "When are you going to tell the boys?" she asked.

"Next week. When they're here. I want you to be there when I tell them. I think they'll take it better."

You know they say you shouldn't make big decisions a year after you've been sober, she suddenly thought. It was a weird thought to have. She wondered if the same could be said after your sister and brother-in-law were killed in a car wreck. Maybe Tim shouldn't be making such a big decision. They could talk about it later. "I'm going to go. Congratulations." She paused, whispering, dead serious. "You're going to be a great and yet terrible husband."

"I know." He waited. "And you will make a great and yet terrible wife someday to some very lucky guy."

Yeah I don't know about that. She disconnected, tapping the phone to her lips. She smiled, reaching for another bottle of wine from the fridge. Thankfully she kept it well-stocked for times like these. She poured herself a glass, took several long sips, refilled, and went into the living room. She made eye contact with Ricky, who seemed like a deer in the headlights. "You and me," she said. She pointed to the bathroom. "We're getting this over with." Tough love. I'm going to pull a Landry and get what I want.

Ricky stuck his fingers in his mouth and chortled.


	19. They'll Be Around

_**19. ...They'll Be Around**_

Wow, Lyla thought, standing in front of the floor length mirror her mother had dragged from the hotel. She had it propped in front of Tyra's old bookcase, held in place with two of Stevie's Tonka trucks. Wow, she thought again, her hands going over her stomach. "You look beautiful," she heard someone said behind her.

She glanced in the mirror instead of turning around, smiling when Jason wheeled himself into the room. "Yeah," she murmured. She cleared her throat, her hands smoothing down her hips. She shrugged, rolling her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself. So much for trying to be humble. "You don't think its too…too much?"

Jason closed the door when Tim's loud voice shouted down the hallway "Steven Riggins put your shoes on!"

Stevie responded just as loud. "No! I'm going barefoot!"

She rolled her eyes. "Let him go barefoot."

"He's just…saying no to everything Tim is telling him to do, don't worry about it." Jason paused. They heard Tim shout no wedding cake for Stevie unless he listened. He shook his head, chuckling. "Disciplining…Tim Riggins is disciplining. That's a new leaf right there." He gestured to the door. "You can still run, I'll give you the keys to my rental truck."

"Yes but then how will you escape?" she chuckled, reaching up to attach a pair of pearl earrings. She blew out a hard breath, turning around and held her hands out, doing a slight side tilt. "Okay? Honest opinion?" The dress was an antique. Pamela had suggested the use of her wedding dress, given the short notice of the wedding, but she'd nixed that idea before her mother got the words out. She didn't want any bad juju that might be on that wedding dress.

Instead she'd been in Austin and located a small boutique selling vintage wedding gowns. The lace column fell to the ground in a short train and had long sleeves. It had a boatneck and left her back bare. She'd found a tulle veil that attached to a silver clip with pearls on the edge which she planned to attach to the side of her braided twist. She took in Jason's look. Apparently he thought she looked good, he wasn't saying anything, but smiling wide. He shrugged. "You look beautiful Lyla, I'm not kidding. Gorgeous."

Thank you. She lifted her head as the door opened, a slight knock on the edge barely audible. "Yeah?" she called.

Tyra stepped into the room, closing it behind her. "You all set?"

"Where's my dad?"

"Downstairs."

"Keep him from my mother please," she said to Jason, who nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Or as best a thumbs up as he could. She reached over and squeezed his fist, still looking at Tyra. Tim's best man had only one rule for the wedding and it was find something light green. She'd found a mint green sundress which she'd still managed to turn sexy, pairing it with strappy heels and doing her hair in an elegant side-ponytail that came over her collarbone, which was bare. The sundress also appeared painted on. She gestured to Tyra. "Well this sucks, you're going to take away from the bride."

Tyra barely glanced at her outfit. "Yeah well, I'm awesome, so I'm always the center of attention." She ran her tongue over her teeth, nodding to the door. Something was up, Lyla knew it. "Jason can you give us a second? Tim needs help with the boys."

Her head whipped up. The boys!? "Why? What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Nothing, there's just some communication error on what getting dressed actually means and all."

"They're not dressed?" Stevie was going to hold the rings and she had the twins leading in front of him to serve as Tim's groomsmen. It would be cute. She glanced at Jason, her face turning pink. This was the wedding she hadn't ever thought about, but it took her two weeks of nonstop planning to make it the last one she knew she'd ever have. She wasn't about to let anything mess it up, including a set of three-year olds who were protesting pants. This was a disaster.

She glanced at Tyra again when Jason left. Okay, now what? Tyra walked over to her and picked up the veil from the bed, brushing it out with her fingers. She draped it over her arm and stood in place, looking her straight in the eye. "You need to see Tim before the wedding. He's panicking and not in a good way…but…don't worry, I mean, he's all for this, he's just…" She glanced at the veil and walked towards her. Lyla turned, her heart thudding hard. Like a drum in her chest, it even vibrated to her ears. Why was he panicking? He couldn't panic. He couldn't freak out. He was the one who had done this so fast, he was the one who wanted this now…oh God, oh God, she thought, closing her eyes as she felt Tyra set the veil clip into her hair.

"What?" she murmured. She kept her eyes shut. Just tell me. "What is he doing?"

"It's not really the boys, I think they sense his…his nerves. I just think he needs to see you. It's been an entire day Lyla. Maybe a six at night wedding wasn't the best solution." Tyra brushed the veil over her shoulders. She sighed, her hand on her shoulder. "Open."

Very slowly she opened her eyes. The veil was just the topper but it really seemed to make it all real. Quite literally the icing on the cake. I'm getting married. She swallowed hard, her throat visibly constricting. "I want to know Tyra." Her voice trembled. This had to go well. She wasn't sure what she'd do if this didn't work out. She was going to kill him. He said he was prepared, he said this wasn't too fast, he wanted this…damnit. I'm going to kill him if he backs out now.

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on that sentiment, when Tyra sighed, her voice soft and understanding. "Lyla, he's my best friend. This is…hard for me. Another woman is going to be helping with the boys and…and maybe deep down at some point I wondered if we would end up together," she said, chuckling. She bit her lower lip, still keeping eye contact through the reflection in the mirror. Less stressful for both of them that way, she imagined. "He needs that…that stabilizing influence that isn't either of us. He needs to go hit beer cans with a golf club and…and work on his truck and do something really stupid." She waited a moment, breathing. "He needs Billy."

Oh my God. She lifted her hands to her face, feeling the cool band of her engagement ring burn against her skin. Why didn't I realize…oh I'm an idiot. She dropped her hands to her side, turning and staring at Tyra for a moment. She nodded, an idea forming. "He needs Billy."

"I don't think he needs to jump off a cliff or anything, but I think he's really in pain right now and he's…" Tyra trailed off. She didn't really need to explain it, because Lyla got it. Tim was in pain because he wanted his brother to be there when he got married, but he wasn't going to whine or cry about it. He wasn't going to do anything about it but sit in misery, trying to be happy because he was getting married while at the same time sad because of Billy. I should have realized, she thought, shaking her head again. We have to get out of here. She looked up again. "Get the boys and tell Tim to come down to the truck. Don't tell anyone where I am."

Tyra nodded. "Okay."

"Thanks." She hitched up her skirt, walking quickly down the front staircase to the door. She barely had her hand on the knob when she heard her name shouted behind her. "Lyla!"

Crap, she'd been trying to avoid her until the wedding. She turned, plastering a smile on her face. "Momma!" she exclaimed, holding her arms out as her mother ran towards her, giving her air kisses on her cheeks. Just be nice Lyla. It is your mother, you love her, even if she makes you want to stab things. "You look great, I love this…skirt." It was patterned and patchwork and looked like it was handmade. Leave it to her mother to try to draw attention away from her on her wedding day.

Pamela waved her hand, pretending to be flattered. "Oh I made it special. I love making my own clothes sometimes. It's so therapeutic! Baby, get back upstairs before…" she trailed off, sighing, resigned to the fact. Her teeth grit. "Tim Riggins sees you."

I can't do this now. "I have to go outside for some fresh air," she lied, wiggling out of her mom's grasp. Not easy to do in a wedding dress with a veil over her face and trying not to smudge her makeup. She waved, walking backwards out the open front door. "I'll be right back, I promise! Just need a moment before I become a married lady!" She spun around and ran down the steps, hurrying to Tim's truck. She jumped inside and rummaged for the keys in the cupholder, finding them underneath a pile of receipts.

The passenger door opened a second later, after she'd started the engine. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Get in, we're going on a ride."

"Lyla, we're getting married in fifteen minutes!"

"We can't get married until the bride is there and if the bride is in the car with you, then we're not getting married yet." She started the truck and turned in the drive, going through the yard and to the end of the driveway, waving at Coach and Mrs. Taylor who were just pulling in from the road. She shouted out the window. "We'll be right back! Wedding is still on!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tim had managed to get dressed. He'd asked not to wear a suit and she agreed, since it wasn't him. She'd convinced him to wear dark gray pants and a gray shirt. He'd turned the sleeves up and the collar was loosened. He sat silently as she drove towards town. It didn't take him long to figure out where they were going. "Lyla, please," he almost begged.

She said nothing. Not until she had the truck coming to a stop in front of the slight hillside where the graves were located. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned off the engine. Come on, she thought, turning towards him. For the first time since he got in the car they made eye contact. She lifted her veil, tossing it over her shoulders. He gaped at her, his jaw falling slightly, stunned. We have time for that later, she thought. "You need this," she whispered, her hand going to his. He clutched it, his eyes pulling from her and towards the graves. She bit her lower lip, whispering. "It's not fair…he is your brother. He should be here, so…so we'll go to him."

"I just…" Tim trailed off, closing his eyes. He opened them a moment later, breathing. "It wasn't like we talked about this or anything. I'm the little brother…I just…wonder what he'd think."

I think he'd be very proud of you. For everything you've ever done. She let go of him, waiting for him to climb out of the truck, walking towards the graves. She lifted her skirt and train so it didn't get mud or grass on it, following him up to them. She remained at his side, one arm around his waist and her other hand on his elbow. "Billy would want to be here," she whispered, since he hadn't said anything yet. He was focused on the graves. She smiled warmly. Comforting. Like it was the day of the funeral again. "He probably wouldn't be able to believe you were actually tying the knot." She chuckled, her head resting on his shoulder. She whispered, an aching hole forming in her gut at the thought of Billy. She missed him. "Or he'd try to talk you out of marrying me."

"He would have liked you as a sister-in-law." Tim dropped his head to hers, whispering. "He did like you."

"I liked him." It took some time, but in the end, Billy had the same hopes and dreams as she did for Tim. He was just far more realistic about them. She sighed. "I could have killed him for many of his decisions, but…I did like him. He was your brother. I love you. You loved him…"

Tim closed his eyes. "I think if we have a kid we should name him Billy."

I think we will one day, she thought, nodding and kissing his shoulder. She sighed, her arms tightening around him. It seemed new again. The pain at losing him. "His best man speech would probably need censoring," she thought, chuckling. That's be a funny speech.

"It'd be awful," Tim agreed. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "He'd probably be drunk the entire time."

"And so would you," she said.

"He'd have been happy though."

"He always wanted you to be happy."

"Sometimes I didn't think so." He sighed. "He drove me crazy at the end there…I felt like the big brother." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She felt the tension dissipate from him as he released it. He was going to be okay. Calmer. Good. He knelt at the grave and reached into his pocket, holding up something. "I wanted them to come."

Lyla took the paper, turning it over. Tears flooded her vision. She sniffed, reaching to dab at the corner of her eye. Screw the makeup. "I think this is lovely."

He took it back from her and folded the invitation, slipping it into the vase beside the small stones, reserved for flowers. She reached up beneath her veil, removing a wildflower Tyra had stuck there from the bouquet. She set it in the vase, straightening back up. "I miss you," Tim whispered, looking down at the headstone. He closed his eyes, a rattling sigh slipping from his lips. When he opened his eyes, she could see they were red-rimmed from the forming tears, which he was holding back. Don't hold it back, she thought, kissing his cheek and holding him, her head on his shoulder again. I love you, she thought, closing her eyes as he shook a little beneath her.

After a moment, she let go, stepping away from him, her hands tight around her dress. She looked up at the sky. It was getting late. She didn't really care though. This was where he needed to be right now. It was where she needed to be. She didn't care if the wedding started late. She wanted it at sunset anyway, with lanterns and Christmas lights for when it grew dark. She swallowed hard, the tears trickling down her cheeks again. This was a big day for him. Tim was really grown up now. Three kids, a job…married. He had it all down now. At the very least it just…she just wished Billy was here to see how big Tim was now. How good.

I'm sure he still knows, she thought, lifting her blurry gaze to the sky. "If you're there," she whispered, her hand tightening around the lace in her hand. She took a deep breath, smiling. "You did it. If this was your plan…you did it. He's grown up now."

She lowered her gaze from the sky. It did seem like the sun was brighter now. She looked up, waiting for Tim to walk back towards her. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips against hers. She returned the kiss, pulling away and wiping her thumb beneath his eyes. "I love you," she whispered. She hiccupped. "And I don't care if we ever get married. I just want to be with you."

He smiled again, a little stronger than before. "You realize without Billy dying…you might never have come back to me?" He shrugged, whispering. "It's kind of an odd tradeoff, how life works."

She shook her head. I don't like thinking that way. "No sense in wondering about what-ifs," she said. She smiled wide. "Tim if your brother could come back into your life again I would gladly leave it and I hope you realize that that's how much I love you." She bit her lip again, shrugging. "And something tells me we would have found each other again. We always do."

"You always come back to me," he said. Not really, more like we always wander right into each other. She kissed him again. Tim broke away, reaching up to pull her veil back over her face. He grinned. "Let's go get married, huh?"

Let's get married, she thought, hiccupping and nodding quickly. She wiped the back of her hand on her nose, hurrying towards the truck. Tim got in the driver's side and pulled away from the hillside, not looking back. They said nothing on the way to the house, not until he parked the truck beside the side door. Thor was in his paddock in front of them, wearing a large green bow in his mane. "Why does my horse have a bow?" Tim murmured.

"Because he's fancy."

"Okay." He looked sideways, his hand reaching for hers. She turned it upward, covering his hand with hers. He smiled. "Ready to become Mrs. Tim Riggins?"

She arched an eyebrow, climbing out of the truck and slammed the door behind her. "Depends. Are you ready to become Mr. Lyla Garrity?"

"Garrity I've always been ready."

She giggled. "Then let's do it." She went into the house, while Tim went around to the backyard. In the living room, in front of the open French doors, Tyra was waiting impatiently. She shrugged. "It's okay, we can get married, the bride is now here."

"About time, I've been stalling. I was going to say you ran out, but then Tim was missing too, so that wouldn't work." Tyra adjusted the veil and the train, grinning. "You ready?"

As ready as I think I'll ever be, she thought, taking the bouquet of wildflowers from Tyra. The boys were lined up as well, Stevie holding the rings on a small pillow. He flushed pink. "You look beautiful Miss Lyla," he whispered. Ricky and Nicky both nodded, their long hair slicked back into little Mohawks. She figured Tyra would sneak something in there that wasn't already approved.

Her cheeks turned as pink as Stevie's. He was so sweet. She knelt down and pulled her veil back, kissing him on his little cheeks before she gave him a hug. "I think today Stevie," she said, grinning. "You can start calling me Lyla." Her eyes sparkled when he grinned, nodding quickly. She pulled her veil back down, standing back up and lightly nudged him towards the door. She glanced at Tyra. "Let's go," she said.

The wedding went off without a hitch, save for Nicky and Ricky both sneezing incessantly at the flowers. They served as Tim's groomsmen, standing beside him with Stevie at her side and Tyra behind Tim. Jason officiated the small service, but each of them had their vows. She didn't want to be too sappy, so all she did was tell Tim she vowed to always love him and be there, which she didn't think would be too difficult given their past. Tim was the one who surprised her. He was very deep when he wanted to be, she thought, as he spoke about how she'd helped him during a difficult time in his life and he wasn't sure he could ever repay it, but he'd just be there. Whether or not she was around or far away.

After she'd started crying, Jason finally ended things. "And before we all lose our minds and start sobbing," he said, laughing. Too late, she thought, seeing Tami crying and even Tyra wiping at her eyes. "I now pronounce you husband and…geez Tim!"

Lyla yelped, laughing as Tim grabbed her around the waist and spun her high into the air before kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, returning it with equal ardor. A moment later he had her in his arms, spinning her around again. Stevie jumped up and down laughing as Ricky and Nicky ran in circles around them, equally thrilled. Tim set her down and whooped loudly. "Let's party!" he shouted.

And everyone took that to heart, she thought, letting go of her veil and running with Stevie, who had already asked her for a dance, towards the area where they had tables and chairs set up for dinner. "You ready?" she asked Stevie, when Landry's band started playing.

Stevie nodded, holding her hands. "How do I dance?"

"Well you lead, so one step, two step…" She started him on a simple waltz, turning and moving across the grass.

"I'm good at this!" he laughed.

"Yes you are."

After dancing with Stevie, she had the twins each want a turn. The thirty guests they'd invited had somehow exploded into about 100. Tim probably just put out a call to the town that anyone who wanted to party could stop by. "Congratulations on your winner of a husband," Julie said, passing by her while dancing with Matt.

Lyla turned, just in time to see Tim and Luke Cafferty dragging out a keg as Jason followed with the tap. She rolled her eyes. "So long as he doesn't do any stands, I'm not nursing him to health our first night together." She stepped off the dance floor, her feet already hurting. "I'm starving," she exclaimed, just as Tami approached her with a small plate of food. "Oh bless you."

"I remember my wedding and Julie's wedding. The bride never gets to eat," Tami said, chuckling. She smiled warmly. In her Tami way, she instantly made Lyla feel relaxed. "It was a beautiful service. I especially liked seeing the two empty chairs on the porch."

You caught that, she thought, rolling her eyes sideways. She swallowed a bit of the canapé she'd just eaten. "I didn't want a big thing," she murmured. It wasn't a formal affair. Tim wouldn't want any more attention drawn to it than there already was, so she'd set out two chairs and tied green ribbon to them, giving them a clear view of the area where they'd get married. Tim invited them and she…she'd already had the places set for them. "They're here," she whispered. She didn't feel very hungry anymore.

"Keep eating."

Okay. She took a deep breath, taking a carrot from the plate just as Landry finished a song. "Okay everyone, I know we're not even eating, we're just drinking and dancing, this is a Riggins wedding after all." He laughed when most of the guys present, who were all former Panthers, whooped. "And I see we've already gotten into the liquor, well then, if the groom is sober enough to come to the dance floor, I've got a song in mind for his first dance with his bride."

Oh good God. The song. Her eyes widened. "I don't have a song," she whispered.

Tami glanced sideways. "You don't have a song?"

"No. I forgot a song!" Tim and I don't have a song! We never had a real relationship most of the time, so how could we have a song, she wondered, handing the plate back to Tami. She wiped her hands on a napkin. Oh geez. "I wonder what he's thinking of playing."

Landry answered the question a second later. "Since neither the groom or the bride instructed me on what to sing at this event, I went through just about every song I could think of and it was finally my sort-of new old girlfriend who came up with it."

Lyla immediately looked at Tyra, who was smiling. She held up her glass and wiggled her eyebrows. "You're welcome!" she shouted.

Oh good God. It better not be horrible, Lyla thought, looking up at Landry on the porch, serving as the makeshift stage. He laughed. "This is 'Fooled Around and Fell in Love.' With a Crucifictorious twist of course."

"Oh that's a perfect song for you guys!" Tami exclaimed.

It was, she thought, walking over to the floor and waited for Tim. She wrinkled her nose, laughing when he picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. His shirt was already untucked and the buttons already undone halfway to his stomach. He grinned at her, spinning her around to his chest. "I see Stevie had you dancing most of the evening already."

"He's suave."

"I'll have to watch out for him."

She wrapped her arm around his neck, smirking. "This is going to be fun. You and me…married." She frowned. "Wow. We're married."

"Well Jason's not sure how legal that website was, but we can always go to City Hall on Monday," he said, kissing her lightly as they danced around on the empty floor. He looked over her shoulder at Landry. "He's not bad."

No, he wasn't bad at all. She glanced at Tyra, who was sitting with the boys. She rested her head on his shoulder. She had three step-nephews now. She closed her eyes, smiling. I want to stay here forever. "Remember the last wedding we danced at?" she whispered.

"Billy and Mindy's," he replied, his voice soft in her ear. He pulled away slightly, his nose brushing hers. "I asked you to go to college and not stay." He smiled slightly. "Funny. Here you are."

Here I am. "I went to college, I got out…I'm going back out there again," she said. She planned on traveling and working. When you're 18-years old, you don't realize you can have it all if you really wanted it. If you really worked at it. "This is going to be very hard, but we're going to make this work. For the sake of those two idiots at Billy and Mindy's wedding who didn't know anything about life." I feel like an idiot right now. I don't know why this upsets me so much, the memory of that day. She bit her lower lip, looking up at him again. Please understand me now Tim. I can't explain it again, I don't know if I could. "We're going to make this work for the sake of Billy and Mindy, who just want you to raise their boys and live the rest of your life. To be a good person and…and I'm going to be there with you and we're not going to back out of this no matter how hard it is and…and no matter how different we can be sometimes."

How different we are, she wanted to say as well. She smiled wide. "We're in this Tim. No going back. Even if…even if it gets really hard and we have to take time away from each other or whatever…we're Tim and Lyla, okay? No going back."

Tim nodded. He turned her away from the group, slowly dancing towards the corner of the floor. His lips brushed over her ear. "When Billy died, I didn't think I would be okay again." He glanced back down at her, smiling. "I've got Tyra. I've got my house. I've got the boys. And now I have you. It's going to be okay."

And that was all Tim needed, she thought, smiling and closing her eyes. Landry finished singing and moved on to another song, a Crucifictorious original, she thought, not recognizing the lyrics. It was about Tyra. I wonder if she knows that. She sighed, her eyes slowly opening. She squinted, looking underneath the tree. Is that…. "Tim?" she murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Have you been drinking?"

"Of course."

"How much?"

"Few beers. Couple shots. Why?"

"Do you see anything under the tree there?"

Tim turned so he could see the tree. He shook his head. "No. Why?"

Lyla turned around again, peering back at the tree. She could have sworn she saw…nevermind. She shook her head, whispering. "Nevermind. Thought someone was there. Guess he went somewhere else." She smiled, lifting her eyes to the sky. It was dark now, the stars and the moon providing light not otherwise provided by the several hundred Christmas lights she had hanging around them and the lanterns and candles on the tables. Nice Billy, she thought, grinning.


	20. It's Good to Be Back

_**20. ...It's Good to Be Back**_

"I'm home! Boys! I'm home! Where are you?!"

Lyla slammed the front door shut, almost toppling over from the weight of her bags. She set them down, scowling at him. He could feel her scowling, even if he couldn't see it. "Tim, seriously? The car was still moving!"

He banged his hands on the wall of the stairs, shouting again. "Boys! I'm home! I have presents!" Ah, key word, he thought, laughing and falling onto the ground as Stevie came flying out from behind a wall. Ricky screamed as loudly, jumping from behind the couch and Nicky had the icing on the cake, leaping from underneath a pile of laundry. He kicked his feet, giggling shrilly as three little boys hugged and kissed him, chattering about what they'd done while he was gone and what presents he got them. He sat up, blowing his hair from his eyes and grabbing them tightly again, squeezing hard. He felt very full right now, he thought, breathless. He took a look at them, his eyes wide. "Nice haircuts my little rock stars, all right. Check it out Garrity."

Lyla squinted. "Mohawks."

Ricky and Nicky both patted their hair, which was cut short on the sides and back, giving them floppy Mohawks. He thought it looked cool. Tyra must have let that one go. Stevie's jeans were too short on his ankles again. Damn, he sighed. That was another expensive trip to the store. Guess it was his time buying clothes, Tyra had gotten the last batch. "Where your aunt?"

"Momma's in the back," Stevie said, interchanging it for Tyra. He held his football up. "I want to play."

"In a second." He looked up when Tyra entered the living room. "Sup' Collette?"

"You look sufficiently well-rested for being gone two weeks."

Nice dig on me, I supposed, spending two weeks getting laid all through Europe while you were stuck with the three kids, he thought, flashing a happy smile at her. He was ecstatic for some reason. Seriously, his life was doing pretty good right now. Married to the love of his life, fresh off a fantastic honeymoon, back with his boys, and he had a good job to return to on Monday. Jason was going to be in town this weekend and it was almost the start of summer football practice. Life was seriously good right now.

Tyra smiled sweetly. "You had a visitor who didn't leave after the wedding."

"Oh yeah?"

"My Tim!"

Tim's eyes widened. "Becks!" He glanced at Lyla, who immediately squinted at Becky, who came running from the kitchen. He wrapped an arm around her, kissing her cheek. "What're you still doing here?"

"I don't get to stay in the US very often and my mother was guilting me. I wanted to stick around so I changed my flight. I leave in a week." Becky grinned widely. "Did you guys make it to Germany?"

"No, we missed it." They'd hung around the Mediterranean and coast. France, Croatia, Italy, and Greece. Not bad when all was said and done. Besides, he got to hear Garrity speak French, which was really hot.

Becky smiled at Lyla, waving. "Hi Lyla. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you a lot at the wedding. You looked really pretty. Are you glad to be back home?"

A look crossed Lyla's face. Almost akin to panic. "Yeah, home…well…yeah. I'm happy. I'll miss laying around a beach for sure," she chuckled. She bit her lower lip, frowning slightly again. "Tim can you help me with the bags?"

"Yeah." He gave Becky another hug and promised Stevie he'd play football with him in a minute. He didn't like Tyra's little smile. He grabbed a bag and set it on the coffee table. Lyla could get the rest. "Alright, ladies first." He removed a bag, passing it to Tyra. He reached in and removed several other bags, passing them around.

Nicky yelped at his. "What is it?" he asked, holding up the toga.

"A sword!" Ricky shouted, pulling out his matching toga and sword.

Stevie plopped the gladiator helmet onto his head, giggling. "I'm a knight!"

"Gladiator, it's a little different, but I think it's also the same thing. Here." Tim gave them several stuffed animals, pairs of Greek sandals, cheesy t-shirts from cheesy tourist shops, and more gladiator gear. They got books on Zeus and Hercules and baseball hats with the various locations he'd visited on them. They looked like walking souvenir kiosks. They ran off to fight with their new toys, leaving Becky with her snowglobe he'd gotten her from Rome and Tyra with her gift, which she still hadn't opened. "Open it," he said softly.

Lyla threw a bag into the foyer. "Help me!" she shouted.

"I'll help you," Becky said, leaving him and Tyra alone. Thank you, he thought. Becky could be obvious sometimes but she was pretty intuitive.

He walked into the kitchen, taking the bag from her. "Most people open their gifts," he said softly, removing an item wrapped in tissue paper. He smiled, teasing her. "You look like you've never gotten one before."

Tyra smiled a little, reaching for the tissue paper. "I guess I'm not used to you getting me gifts. I missed you." She sighed, shaking her head. "It seems weird that you and Lyla are going to be living here."

"I move her into her apartment in Austin in two weeks," he said softly. She was beginning medical school. They'd agreed to let her settle in before she came out to Dillon, but she already warned him it was going to be intense. Lyla didn't really know what she wanted sometimes he wasn't sure she really even wanted this, but he'd let her try. Her time in Africa had changed her mind on where she'd best be able to help, so he'd let her help in the way she knew how. He didn't want to think of not having Lyla around. "Open your gift, come on."

"You're really excited about this," Tyra chuckled, pulling the paper apart to reveal the red glass earrings and matching pendant necklace. She stared at them for a moment, her throat clearing. "Oh my."

He picked up the necklace, dangling it in front of her. "Lyla helped, I didn't know what to get you. Nothing was good enough."

Tyra took the necklace, wrapping it around her neck and clasping it. She slipped the earrings she was wearing out and put in the new ones, turning so he could view. "How do they look?"

He smiled. "Beautiful."

"Thank you…where are they from?" Tyra fingered the earring, her other arm wrapped across her waist.

"Venice."

"Wow." She cocked her head. "You in Europe. I know you sent pictures and have pictures, but seriously? I can't see it."

Tim removed his phone, scrolling through some pictures and turning. "Believe it." In it he was standing with Lyla at the Trevi Fountain, only while she was beaming at the camera, he'd set it up so it looked like he was spitting out water. Lyla had had to put up with a lot. He was only going to be in Europe once. It wasn't Texas, but it was like New York to him. He liked it, it was fun, it was an escape, and he wasn't into the history like Lyla, just the entertainment, but at the end of the night, he ached for his house and his land. And now that ache was filled with love for the boys.

Tyra held the phone up, scrolling through. "Wow. You guys really hit some of the good spots…oh shit Tim! Seriously!?" She flung the phone at him, scowling. "You need to delete those, what if the boys found it?"

Delete what, he wondered, taking the phone. He grinned. "Oh yeah. Garrity." He shrugged. "It was a nude beach, she could take her top off."

"Judging by her facial expression I think you ran up and tugged at her bikini top and had the camera ready."

That might be the case, but he wasn't on trial so he wouldn't admit to anything. He smiled. "How's Lando?"

"He's fine. He's preparing for SXSW so I haven't seen much of him. We're going on Friday, they have a prime spot in one of the Saturday night shows." She cocked her head, quiet. "I know it's not my time with them and you just got back, but I'd appreciate it if you let me take the boys."

It would be their first time away from Dillon, he thought, frowning a little. He wasn't sure about that. "Tyra I just got back from three weeks away from them," he said.

Uh-oh. Tyra's eyes flashed. She wasn't happy. "And you know what I went through those three weeks Tim?" she demanded. She arched a brow, her words frosty. She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. Pissed off. She was really pissed off. She gripped the side of the countertop, her knuckles turning white. "I had to listen to them ask where you were all day and where was Lyla and how come she wasn't living with us and when were you coming back and what would you bring them, why weren't you there playing football with them, they can't wait to play football with you, they want to show you their new cuts and scrapes and Ricky wants to ride a bike but he doesn't want me teaching you and Nicky wants Lyla to sing to him and not me and they like how she cuts up their chicken nuggets, I don't cut them up and so I want to take them to see Landry play in Austin and I'm not asking you Tim, I'm fucking telling you I take them because I have done everything for those boys and I try the hardest and they don't even care!" she shouted.

She sniffed, tears suddenly appearing. Or maybe theyw ere already there, he thought, his mouth falling open in surprise. I didn't realize… she shook her head, laughing and threw her hands in the air. "Fuck it Tim. You're married now. You can give them the mom and dad they lost a year ago. No more driving around. I'm done. I'm just…I'm just Aunt Tyra. I'll never be Mom."

Oh shit, Tyra, he thought, following her out to the porch with his gaze. He started after her, but stopped, seeing Becky appear in front of him. "What?" he whispered.

"No," she said. She shook her head. "No."

No what? "Becks get out of my way, I need to talk to Tyra," he said, trying to step around her, but Becky placed her hands on his hsoulders, walking him backwards into the kitchen and pushed him against the fridge. Uh-oh. He closed his eyes immediately. "Becky um, I love you and all, but I've been married three weeks and I'm thinking Garrity is going to learn to be a doctor but she's probably already good at cutting things off, so if you could just…"

Becky rolled her eyes. "Lyla heard what Tyra said, you dumbass. She's going to talk to her in her own way I imagine, but this is on me right now. You are not going out there right now, her rage is all on you. Let Lyla take care of it, okay?" She pulled him by the arm out the side door, marching to the paddock.

Thor's ears perked up and his tail swished. He was more dog than horse it seemed like sometimes. "Hey boy," he said, reaching up to rub behind his ears. The horse's eyes immediately closed, enjoying it. He nodded to the barn. "Get him an apple from the fridge. Hopefully Tyra kept it stocked."

"She kept it stocked, she brushed the damn thing even though he stepped on her foot, and she mucked the stall." Becky scowled. "She also cleaned your house, stocked your fridge, and kept your yard nice. She got your mail and helped raise the boys. She did more than you give her credit for and when I tried to help she made me go sit down." She smirked. "Tyra is more selfless than you give her credit for. She talks a talk and acts like she could give a shit about you, but she loves you."

I know she loves me, geez stop it. He glanced at Becky, who came back from the fridge with an apple. He took it, passing it to Thor, who delicately took the apple and crunched on it, chewing messily before swallowing it all, core and all. He rubbed Thor's velvet nose, smiling at the pretty animal. Maybe I should get you a dog, he thought. He leaned in as Thor pushed his long forehead to his face. Aw, missed you too. He glanced at Becky, who was smiling beside him, like she knew something he didn't. "What?" he snapped.

"You love him."

"Don't let him know that." He kept rubbing the horse, sighing. What was he supposed to do about that? "I can't make them do what she wants," he said. I can't even get them to eat all their dinner. Or be nice. They were kids. They did what they wanted. This was a question for Tami Taylor. Or Coach. Not him.

Becky rolled her eyes. "They're kids, of course you can't make them do what you want, but you can…" she trailed off, whispering. "Tim you can help it a bit. Lyla will be their stepmother, basically, but what it's doing is you're making it so much easier for them to like her more than Tyra. You egg them on. She's Miss Lyla to them, the sweet lady who lets them color and teaches them things and is this mysterious stranger to them and you egg it on. You fight in front of them with Tyra and you make it seem like she's the drag. You don't mean to, I know you don't."

What do you know? He scowled. "You're in Germany, Becks. I didn't see you here when Tyra and I were figuring out how to tell them their parents were dead!"

Oh shit. He drew back, seeing the horrified look fill Becky's face. He closed his eyes. "Oh God. Becks…"

"No," she whispered, drawing immediately away from him, her arms going around herself. She wiped at her nose, nodding. "I wasn't here." She turned to look at him, still horrified.

I'm an ass. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and resting his chin on her head. She began to shake, crying into his chest. I'm sorry, he thought, closing his eyes tight. He forgot about her. She was as close to them as him. Mindy was basically her mother. Sister. Best friend. And she couldn't even come to the funeral. I'm sorry, he thought again, swaying slightly. He rubbed at her back, soothing her as she softened against him. "Shh," he whispered, when she tried to speak. Don't talk.

She sniffed again, moving to wipe at her eyes, but then wrapped her arms back around him. She hiccuepd. "I remembered when you took me here. You kissed me."

"Married."

"Me too. I'm not asking again, I'm just saying." She lifted her face, still with her arms around him. She swallowed hard, before whispering. "I saw it all. You're a good person. You're kind and you're sweet and you're a good person. I saw it when no one else did." She jutted her chin up, stubborn. "And I know you're a good person. You're a good dad. Good uncle. You'll be a good…" she trailed off, smiling a little. "You'll be an okay husband."

He frowned, but his lip quirked in a smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she giggled. She rested her head against his chest again, whispering. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for anything. I guess I knew you could do it, I just…I know Tyra's hurting. She's trying not to show it, but she's hurting whenever those little boys ask about Lyla over her. You need to do something about that."

What am I supposed to do? "Am I supposed to divorce Lyla?" he asked out loud. That wasn't an option. They were barely three weeks into this thing. He knew there was already a pool. Luke said they'd end after a year and three days, for some reason. Jason thought it was idiocy, but he'd had a bet that they'd divorce and still end up together. Matt abstained from it all and he knew full well Smash had it that it wasn't even legal in the first place because the world hadn't ended yet.

Becky cocked her head, frowning. "Why would that be your first thought?"

"She's gonna' live here, you know when she's done being a doctor in Austin."

"Tim there are ways you can just…you need to talk to her. I don't know Lyla at all, but something tells me she is terrified of slipping in front of Tyra and will try to fix this. I'm not saying she can't love them, she can love them all she wants, but…look they just walked right over Tyra when you were gone. All they could talk about was you and Lyla." Becky arched an eyebrow. "It hurt her and she had to pretend like it didn't."

I know. It clearly did hurt her, because she had flipped out on him. I want to fix this, he thought, looking back at the house. He glanced down at Becky. "I love you. You should move back."

"I'd drive you to drink."

"I already drink."

"More than normal." She kissed him briefly on the lips, patting his chest. "Your wife is a vengeful one. I remember that look she gave me when I met her."

"She was just surprised to meet you."

"She didn't look it. She thought it was funny."

Lyla had found it amusing that he'd had another girl knocking on his door, but it wasn't like they were even together when she met Becky. He Kissed the top of her head again, hugging her tight. Becky was the little sister he never had. He missed her. A lot. He let go of her, giving her one more quick kiss. "I miss you. Come back to Dillon."

She smirked, shaking her head. "I like Europe. I was born in the wrong country." She chuckled, her hands going to her hips. "I love you. I just…right now I can't come back to Dillon." A shaky sigh rattled from between her pursed lips. She smiled sadly again. "I miss Mindy and…and I can't be around this place without her. I can't deal with my mother without having her there to provide the backup and…and honestly Tim you don't need me around to cheer you up. Face it. I'm your comic relief."

My comic relief? "More like my stress inducer," he teased. He smiled when she punched his shoulder. "Ouch."

"Loser."

"Shut up." Becky jumped on his back as he walked away from the paddock, her arms around his neck. He hitched her up and then promptly fell sideways, dropping her to the ground and jumping up. " I win!" he shouted. I tricked you!

She jumped to her feet, running after him. "It wasn't a competition you idiot!"

He took off away from her, laughing. He glanced over his shoulder, just in time for Stevie to take off away from Tyra, leaping up and grabbing him. "I'm a lion!" Stevie shouted. He bared his teeth, roaring. "Going for the kill!"

"More like a kitten," he said, tossing Stevie off of him. He sat up on the ground, grinning at him. He wanted to play football. He glanced at Tyra, who was on the porch with Lyla. Lyla had gotten up and gone inside. He glanced to Stevie again. He cleared his throat. "You're going to Austin this weekend. With Aunt Tyra."

"Aw, come on! I want to stay with you!"

"Nope, you're going to see Mr. Landry play guitar with his band." He pulled Stevie towards him, turning his baseball hat around backwards and folded the bill a little so he looked cooler. He stood up on his knees, his hands going to Stevie's shoulders. Stevie was shooting him a surly look. It was right off of Mindy, he thought with a brief smile. "You're going to spend time with Aunt Tyra."

"I just did!"

"No, you didn't."

Stevie stuck his tongue out and made a face. "I have football."

"In a few weeks." His stomach flipped. He wondered what position they'd put him in. None of the kids went in there with a position. It was the only responsibility of a Pee Wee coach. Get them the technique. Teach them the game. Pop Warner was where they started specializing. That kid was tall and lean and quick thinking. Quarterback. That kid was tall and had long arms and could run. Wide receiver or cornerback. That kid was big and fast and liked hitting people. Fullback, he thought with a brief smile. He wasn't sure where he wanted Stevie, just that he knew Stevie would have fun. He could play as long as he had fun.

He wandered off towards the house. Tim stood up, glancing at the twins, who were in their playset, zooming up and down the slide. He turned in a circle, walking away and towards the pond. A few minutes later, he felt someone behind him. "Good talk with Tyra?"

"Yeah," Lyla said.

"What'd you talk about?"

"Nothing." She wrapped her arm around his waist, her head going to his shoulder. "Good talk with Mindy?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you talk about?"

He smirked. "Nothing."

Lyla grinned, turning to look out at the land. She sighed. "I think they're just in a phase. They'll always gravitate to you and while I want them to love me, I don't want them to prefer me over Tyra. She's their aunt. Practically their mother."

She is their mother, he thought, his head still on Lyla's. He lifted it up slightly. "When do you want to start on that kid of ours?" The one that was waiting, he thought, looking up at the sky.

"Tim I'm starting medical school."

"So?"

She shook her head, sighing. "Not for a long time, Tim." She waited a moment. "Stevie is going to make a good running back."

"He's five. He's got a lot of time left."

"Yeah. We don't want them to grow up too fast."

God no, he thought, closing his eyes. He was tired. There'd been a lot of noise. Already drama. He smiled. It was good to be back, he thought with a sigh.


	21. You'll Find a Way Out

_**21. ...You'll Find a Way Out**_

"So was this one of your haunts?"

Tyra tossed her hair out of her eyes, chuckling and nodding. "Yup. I hung out here most of my four years and I even waitressed for awhile." She glanced at Stevie, who was doodling on a napkin with the crayons she'd located in the bottom of her tote bag. Ricky and Nicky were starting to nod off, thank God. They'd exhausted themselves on the UT campus earlier.

She'd shown them all where she'd lived for two years, driven them by her shitty apartment she'd shared with four other girls for the last two years and pointed out various landmarks, student superstitions, traditions, and the football stadium where she graduated. She showed them her favorite buildings, her favorite part of the library where she'd spent hours studying, and her local coffee haunt. Now they were in the pub. The final stop before going back to the hotel.

SXSW had put the band up in a nice hotel near Lady Bird Lake. Landry had pulled strings to get her and the boys a room beside the band's room. Which all four of them were sharing, including Devin, who really didn't care either way. The last Tyra had seen, she was locked down with her bass, headphones on and listening to previous recordings of their best shows, practicing.

Since she had a bit of a quiet moment, she leaned on the table. "So tell me, which songs are you playing?"

"We get a set. Five songs to a set."

"So which ones?"

"Three older, two new. Not always a good thing to debut new music at a big event, but we're confident." Landry reached into the messenger bag he'd been carting around of late, taking out some sheets. He pointed to one. "This one is that one I told you about, we made it in that recording studio a few years ago…in Berkeley." He seemed to trail off, shaking his head slightly.

She swallowed hard. Billy had tagged along with him on that trip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. We call it The Party Song, because well, we were all partying when we sang and recorded it. It came out well." He shuffled some papers underneath the others, sighing. "The other three you know. Small Town Girl, Grilled Cheese, and Shadows on the Wall."

Those were all good. She liked Small Town Girl in particular because it was about her, even if Landry hadn't admitted it. She propped her head on her hand, pointing to one of the sheets sticking out from the others. "What's the fifth song?"

"Fifth?"

"You only named four. Three old and two new, that's what you said, but you only named four."

He sighed, shrugging again. He looked away, mumbling. "Nothing."

Come on Landry. She glanced at the boys. "You guys have to go to the bathroom before we leave? Landry can you take them?"

He stood up, taking the twins by the hands and Stevie following, claiming he didn't have to go, even if he was dancing on his toes a bit while he said it. She waited for them to be out of sight in the back of the pub before she grabbed the bottom sheets of music. "Let me see this," she mumbled. The music she'd pulled out was halfway through the song. She frowned. 'he comes in the night, he leaves in the morn, he's the only one they want, but he's the loneliest one in the world.' Weird. She flicked to another page, her brow furrowing as she mumbled the lyrics, unsure of the notes to know whether they were high or low. "The reaper takes, sows, and grows, the reaper's job is never done, the reaper, the reaper, gone as he please, the reaper's lament…" She turned to the main page, the title of which was in bold font. "The Reaper's Lament," she read out loud. She went back through now that she had the pages together, letting them fall to the table when she'd finished.

Wow, she thought, shaking her head and glancing up when Landry returned with the boys. "I think we're ready, do you want me to get the check?" he asked. He walked off before she could answer, even though she was going to give him cash for their food.

They left the pub, driving back to the hotel. Tyra got them into the room, sighing at the prospect of baths and brushing teeth and finally bed. "Get in bed," she ordered, about an hour later, when Stevie insisted that he wanted to sleep on the couch. "I'll sleep on the couch," she said, pulling back the double bed's covers. The twins were curled up in the other, fast asleep. Once they were out of the bath they were fast asleep, hugging their security blankets and stuffed animals.

She leaned on the edge of the bed, Stevie crawling beneath the covers. "Sing me a song," he ordered.

A song? "I don't sing," she said.

He narrowed his tiny dark eyes, a sly smile pulling on his lips. "Miss Lyla does."

I don't think she has ever done such a thing, she has a terrible singing voice, she thought, scowling at him. She chuckled, shaking her head. "You're not pulling me in on that one. I will read you a story. Which one?"

"The Giving Tree."

He'd been in a Shel Silverstein sort of mood. She pulled the book from his backpack, sitting up on the bed beside him, turning to the first page. A brief memory flashed through her mind. _You're like that book, The Giving Tree. It's about a little boy who gives and gives and gives and the tree takes and takes and takes. That's you Tyra, you just take and take and take. _She cleared her throat, beginning to read, until Stevie pushed at her hand, taking over. He loved to read. She rested her hand on his head, listening as his small voice read the words aloud.

While he read, she thought. This was nice. Really nice, just sitting here with him. No having to punish because he refused to listen to her or challenged her authority on something. Or pushed his brother or took his food or something. No separating the twins when they stopped acting like twins getting along and started acting like twins who were too much alike and fought it out. I hate being the one who has to discipline. Was that why they liked Tim more, she wondered.

"Aunt Tyra?"

She started slightly, looking down at Stevie. "Yeah?" she whispered. She suddenly felt exhausted.

"I'm done now."

"Oh. Do you want to read another?" He kept looking at her. Something was going through his head right now. She smiled down at him, smoothing her hand over his hair. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

He sighed, his tiny nostrils flaring. His eyes narrowed. In that second he looked so much like her sister she wanted to just start screaming. He could be Mindy incarnate, depending on the look. To stop her heart from yearning, she glanced at Ricky, who was turned towards her, sucking his thumb in his sleep. He was Tim's spitting image. Billy said once, very vaguely and never elaborated, that Tim was their mother. Mindy had told her, in confidence, based on what Billy had said, their mother was undiagnosed bipolar. Spinning from one mood to another. Always stormy, that's how Mindy said Billy called her. Tim had that a lot. Life of the party one second and dark Heathcliff the next. And they had the same dark looks.

I wish I knew more, she thought. Knew more about the Riggins family. It was in their DNA. Her nephews…sons, whatever they were to her now, they had that inside of them and while she knew how to handle Tim, she wasn't sure what to do with the rest. She could take the Collette stuff. Not that there was much there, but…she wasn't sure what to do with a stormy little genius like Stevie. So long as the twins continued on their development as Tim and Billy Part Two, she'd be okay. Stevie was an absolute mystery.

He narrowed his eyes to slits. Finally, after thinking for another moment, he sighed, looking sad. "Tell me a story about my mommy."

Your mommy? "Oh," she whispered, unsure what to say. She took a deep breath. What was she supposed to say? She cleared her throat. "What do you thik of her?"

"You look like her, but I don't know what she looks like."

Yes you do, she thought. She took her phone, spinning back to the last photo she'd taken with her sister. Graduation from UT. "That's her," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You remember what she looks like."

"I don't."

Maybe he didn't. She shrugged. "What do you want to hear?"

"What did she do?"

Well she was a stripper. "She was a dancer."

"Did she make a lot of money?"

"Tips."

"Oh." He waited a moment, frowning. "How come Grandma don't talk about Mommy?"

"Well…" Tyra trailed off, shrugging. "It makes her sad. You see…" How do I explain this? She took a deep breath. Shot in the dark. "When mommies and daddies grow up, they get old and they sometimes get sick, but they die. Their kids who are now all grown up are the ones who…who live. Then it goes again. Well…it's very sad when a mommy or a daddy is still alive and their kid is not alive anymore." Did I do that right? She bit her lip, whispering. "Grandma is sad because she doesn't like that her daughter, your mommy, died before her. It's now how it's supposed to be."

He nodded, but she wasn't sure he got it. He processed that for a minute before looking up again. "I like you."

Oh. Well then. She frowned briefly. "Okay."

"I love you Aunt Tyra. You're my favorite."

I'm your favorite? She smiled a little. "Why?" Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. He's five. He probably likes you more now because you took him on a trip and read him a story.

Stevie shrugged, folding deeper into her. He yawned. "I dunno. Just are."

She kissed his head. She supposed it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. "I love you too."

He spoke again, suddenly distressed. "Are Lyla and Uncle Tim going to have a baby?"

I don't know, no one tells me anything. "Um, I don't think so."

"But Mr. Seven told me people get married and have babies. Like him and Miss Julie."

She rolled her eyes. Damnit Tim and the nicknames. They refused to call Jason anything other than Uncle Six because that's what Tim called him. She shook her head. "Mr. Seven is Matt, remember that and they're not having a baby."

"Yes they are, he told me."

She waited a second. Well shit damn. Julie did look a little fuller when she saw her at the wedding. She frowned. I have to follow up on this. Landry would know. "Did they tell you or did you hear?" She remembered and instance a week ago when Stevie said that Lyla told him Uncle Tim was a moron and Tim got all mad at Lyla for telling Stevie what she thought of him. Turned out he'd overheard Lyla telling Jason that Tim was a moron.

"I don't know."

So he overheard the conversation. Well damn. "Um, well they do sometimes, but not yet. Not now." I cannot handle it if there truly was a Tim Riggins child. Nephews, fine. Actual baby? No.

"Oh. I don't want to go away."

Stevie…she wrapped her arms tighter around him, kissing his ehad and whispering. "No one is going to send you away. You live with me. You live with Uncle Tim. Sometimes not at the same time, but you are still ours. We love you and we're keeping you until the end of time." She smiled at his giggle. "And we'll never send you away."

That placated him enough. He wanted another story about his mom and dad, and while it pained her to speak of them, it had been a year and it wasn't nearly as painful as it would have been awhile ago. She told him the story of the wedding, with Mindy's Finding Nemo wedding vows and fairy-wing dress and Billy's cowboy hat.

By the time she'd finished, he was asleep, lightly snoring. She slipped out from under him, pulled the blanket over his shoulders and flicked off the light, but not before making sure the dinosaur rotating nightlight was stuck in the outlet. With the room dark, save for the shadowed colors showing dinosaurs on the wall, she grabbed the baby monitor walkie-talkie, her phone, and the room key, leaving them and slipping next door.

It took two knocks before Devin answered, her face twisted in an irritated scowl. "Yes?"

"Sorry to interrupt, can I talk to Landry?"

"We're practicing."

"I get it, can I talk to him?"

"Landry! Yoko is here."

It took a moment for Landry to come to the door, closing it behind him. She frowned, pointing to the door. "They called me Yoko. Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yoko broke up the Beatles. They're just going off precedent."

"Come on I'm not Yoko! I'm George Harrison's wife, I forget her name."

He shook his head, smiling. "No, you're not. What can I do for you? We really are practicing."

She took a deep breath and slowly released it, meeting his eyes. "The Reaper's Lament," she whispered. It sat with her. She wanted to know who it was about. She shook her head, chuckling. "He's going to murder you dead when he finds out you have that song."

Landry glanced at the floor and up at her, his jaw set. He wasn't being funny right now. He shook his head again. "I can't believe you looked."

"Well you wouldn't tell me and I'm glad I looked." She paused. There was something about just reading the song. She wondered how it sounded. She cocked her head, whispering. "When did you decide to write a song about Tim?"

He walked away from her, going down the hallway and outside onto a balcony. It looked like it was for smoker's or something, but there was no one around. He leaned on the railing, looking out over Lady Bird Lake. She leaned beside him. She wanted an answer. He glanced at her. I'm not going to give up. Answer me. He glanced away again. "I wrote the song the night my dad called and said they were dead."

She blinked. "That night?"

"I had an idea, but…I started writing down some words. Then there was the funeral and…and the way he stood there." He smiled. "Every girl was still flirting with him, he had eyes for one woman, and for whatever reason surrounded by the entire town of Dillon, Texas, Tim Riggins was the loneliest guy in the world. It just reeks of song."

"But the song isn't about him being…" she trailed off. She shrugged. "I mean, Tim's a walking country song. Beer drinking, hard-partying, and truck driving football player. Why not go that route?"

"We're an alternative band from small-town Texas," he said. He was still looking away. His voice fell. "I don't know if that's our forte." He paused, chuckling. "That song was the song that got us SXSW, so I have to sing it."

I can imagine. "What about the other songs?"

"The other songs are good, but…that was the one that I kind of just…shut down and wrote. No input, no nothing, just…wrote it."

It seemed like it. "Lyla said you wanted wedding pictures. Why?" she asked. Changing tactics here.

"Oh, you'll see."

She arched an eyebrow. "I will?"

"Yeah, you'll see." He finally turned around, looking straight at her. "This has been really fun Tyra. Old times and all, but I just…I don't think it's going to work out."

It was like telling someone they were dying. Inevitable but sad at the same time. "I know," she whispered. They loved each other but they couldn't be together. Talk about two people on different paths. At least she and Tim lived in the same zip code. Even Lyla and Tim had found a unique way to overcome it. They just ignored the fact they were on different paths for the sake of being together. This was something she couldn't ignore though. If that song was heard…she smiled. "You're going to be big."

"I doubt it," he laughed.

"The Reaper's Lament," she said. She took a deep breath and held it, but spoke. "It sounds like it's about death, but it isn't. I mean…it kind of is. Loneliness and despair, lamenting the fact that you're alone but in the end the reaper still gets what he's looking for. And yet he's still sort of just wandering out there. You make the person feel sorry for the fact that there is this guy surrounded by everything, getting every girl in the world and yet he's alone and sad and has problems. What's the tune like?"

He reached for his phone and fiddled for a second, hitting the play button and held it up. The song began to play. She dropped her mouth. It started like a ballad but suddenly blew up into a rock song, fast-singing and drum beats and Devin completely killing the bass. Then it immediately stopped and slowed to a hopeful, almost jumping beat before ending softly, the reaper walking off to be with people. "That's it," he said.

Oh shit. She flung her arms around him, hugging and kissing. You will be big. "Don't forget the little people when you're getting a Grammy," she mumbled into his neck, still hugging him.

"You have high hopes. I just want to be able to say in fifty years to my grandkid that dropping out of Rice with a promising degree to work in a bar, be a physics substitute, and try to make it with the band was worth it."

"It is worth it." Follow your dreams. Cliché but still apropos.

He kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too." She pulled away, kissing him for one final time and smiled, cocking her head. "He is going to kill you."

"He won't know it's him."

No, there was a good chance, but…she reached for the phone, fast-forwarding to the part in the refrain. _Sitting in the bar, the girls all sing that Thirty-Three is the one who isn't afraid to cheat… _She threw the phone back, chuckling. "He's not stupid. Far from it."

"Well he doesn't like flying so I'll be in LA."

"I sure hope so." She went back into the hotel with him, kissed goodbye, and went into the room, crawling into bed next to Stevie, where she promptly passed out.

The next night, as Crucifictorious sang on the stage at SXSW, with hundreds of people dancing and jumping and all around enjoying themselves, Tyra shook her head in disbelief. Wow. Landry made it. She glanced at Stevie, who was standing on a chair, wearing headphones against the loud music. He pointed to the screen behind the band, which began to flash photos of people. "It's Uncle Tim!" he shouted, to hear himself over the music and the muffled sounds outside the headphones.

The twins screamed when they popped up, along with Mindy and Billy. Tyra's eyes flooded with tears. They were singing the final song. It was one he'd slipped in there without mentioning to her, probably because she'd figure it out with the photos. It was just called 'Dillon' even though he never said the name of the town once in the song. It was a happy, upbeat song, the little town that gathered beneath the lights, as the refrain said. Where high school lovers married, she thought, hearing that particular part of the chorus, just as a photo she loved of Matt and Julie at their wedding, the veil draped over Matt's face as he laughed and Julie stuck her tongue out at him popped up on the screen.

She cocked her head, watching as another one came up on the screen, Coach and Tami at one of the football events and then another she liked, Tim and Lyla at their wedding, with Tim wearing the veil and holding a football, Lyla almost falling over laughing and trying to hit him with her bouquet.

Tyra picked up Ricky so he could see, pointing. "See?" she said.

He grinned, his arm around her neck. "You!"

Me, she thought, as the image of her popped up, taken a few weeks ago at the lake. I actually look happy, she thought briefly. She didn't think it showed that much, because it wasn't like she thought she was happy. She wasn't living in Chicago. She didn't have the most glamorous or high-paying job in the world. Three kids with issues. A partner in raising them who had issues.

But I'm happy, she thought again, lifting both twins up completely and hugging them to her, cocking her head and watching Landry manage to sneak out of Dillon right before her eyes.


	22. You'll Get Lost In Yourself

**A/N: **The lack of updates on both this fic and the other one I have going have been because I was on vacation and busy with other things. To those still keeping with the fic, it will be finished, just probably not on the time frame I usually finish fics on.

* * *

_**21. ...You'll Get Lost In Yourself**_

"Because they all know that 33 is the one who cheats…"

"Are you singing that song?"

"No."

"You know the rules."

Stevie made a face, scribbling in his notebook. "Whatever."

"Don't whatever me," Tim mumbled, ruffling Stevie's hair. He sat down at the table, frowning as Stevie intently wrote the letters from the workbook in front of him into the large lines of the notebook, ensuring each one was at the proper height. "Are you doing homework?" he finally asked, after Stevie said nothing to his presence.

"Yes."

Without asking? Are you really a Riggins, he wondered, squinting at his nephew. He cleared his throat. "Did someone ask you?"

"No, just did." He turned the page in the workbook, scowling at Tim. "I like school," he said defensively.

Oh no kid, I'm not mad at you for it, he thought. Just surprised. He smiled quickly. "Good. It's good you like school."

"Tyra says I can't have ice cream after dinner until I do my homework."

Of course you are a Riggins so there is an ulterior motive. Good. Got worried there for a second. He smiled again, standing up and walking into the kitchen. He paused, as Stevie began to mumble the refrain to 'The Reaper's Lament.' I am going to kill Landry the next time he's in Dillon, he silently vowed. That song had gotten picked up by a local station after SXSW. Then another and another, until they'd signed some deal with a company in Austin and it was all over the country. They were in LA now, meeting with the Austin company's mothership. Tyra had commented that Landry might actually be a big thing and who would have ever thought that?

Well no one, he said. He didn't know what Landry would ever do, he didn't think about things like that. He just liked him and he was fine with whatever he did, but seriously? That damn song! It took him about a month to figure out it was about him. Lyla had been singing it all the damn time, so did Tyra, and it wasn't until Jason called him 'Reaper' one day did he start piecing it all together. "I should get some cash from that," he thought out loud. He chuckled. Billy would tell him to be all over that shit. Royalties, he thought they were called.

He glanced at the calendar, staring at it for a moment. That couldn't be possible. He cleared his throat. "Stevie?" he called.

"Yup?"

"You have a football game Saturday right?" Stevie was enjoying his Pee Wee football team. He was on the Gators, which Tim despised, instead of the Longhorns, but oh well. The coach was a former Panther Tim knew vaguely; Jim had been two years ahead of him. He'd been a safety. It didn't take long for Coach Jim to agree with Tim that Stevie was bound for running back, most likely fullback. The problem was to get him to stop running. Eric suggested they get him involved with some sort of track and field. Tim just wanted Stevie happy. So long as the kid enjoyed it, just like he did, he would let him play as much and as long as he pleased, no matter the sport. So long as it wasn't baseball. Tim thought that was boring.

Stevie hopped off the chair, wandering over and picked at his nose. Tim passed him a Kleenex. Kids and germs, geez. "I think so."

"You want to toss the ball, run some plays?"

"After homework."

You're in first grade, what kind of homework is there for you to do, he thought. He glanced at the calendar again. One of Tyra's things she'd insisted upon was the CALENDAR. It outlined most everything. He forgot a lot of it all, missing playdates and doctor's appointments. Took some time. Now if he couldn't find a kid, he usually checked it to make sure they were even in the house. The trick was remembering to write things on it. Usually Tyra reminded him. "You talk to your aunt today?"

"Momma's working now."

Tim nodded, glancing at the calendar again. Twins were with some friends from preschool. They'd get dropped off later. He hoped. He didn't really want to drive today. He swallowed hard, looking at it one more time. He glanced at Stevie, who was looking at him. "What's up?" he asked.

"Nuthin'."

"What do you want for dinner? It's just us."

"Food."

"Good start." He opened the fridge. There was leftover Chinese. "Cold Chinese it is."

"Micro it."

"Microwave is broken." He blew it up with the twins trying to melt crayons into paint. Didn't work out well at all. He dumped the contents into a bowl, sticking a fork into it and passing it to Stevie. "Enjoy."

Stevie wrinkled his nose, pushing it aside. "After homework."

Single-minded kid. "More for me." He bit into a dumpling and pulled the container towards him, poking at it with his fork. He was bored. When he was bored he usually had the kids to occupy him. He watched Stevie for a few more minutes. Kid was intense. "So how you feeling kid?"

"Shh!"

Okay fine, sheesh. He got up, walking with his Chinese food to the room that was sort of his study. He picked up his phone, hit Jason's number and listened to it ring. And ring. And ring. "Hello?"

"Six."

"Rig." Jason paused. "What's up?"

"I'm bored."

"Get a hobby."

"I don't want a hobby." He needed something to do. Maybe he could do some work. He didn't feel like it though. He sighed, slumping backwards in his desk chair. He closed his eyes. "I want Garrity," he whined.

"So go get her."

"I have Stevie."

Jason seemed like he was in the middle of something. He had his 'work voice.' He was also typing or something. He kept typing, clicking in the background. "Well you know you have three kids, are the other two missing? I probably shouldn't joke."

"They're with friends."

"They're three."

"You can have friends at three." He waited another moment, sitting up, his elbows on the edge of the desk. He picked up a pen, spinning it around. His wedding ring glinted. It was pretty bright, the sunlight flashing off the edge of the pencil holder to the ring and back out the window. He looked out at the sun. It was getting darker earlier. He hated that, but it was a sign of fall. Fall meant football. "When you coming back out here?"

"Um, probably Thanksgiving. Why?"

"Just wondering."

The clicking stopped. It took a moment and he heard Jason's soft curse. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He groaned. "I'm being a terrible friend. I forgot. Today. Timmy…"

I don't want your pity or anything. Just wanted to talk to you. You're my best friend. "I never call you," he chuckled. That should have been the tipoff. In fact, it annoyed Jason that he never called. He was the one who always had to fight for the friendship. Tim just didn't want to bother him. He sighed hard, looking out the door to the kitchen table, where Stevie was still working away. "Stevie likes homework. Something's wrong there."

"He's smart, remember?"

That's what was weird. "Yeah," he whispered. He closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead, mumbling. "What would Billy have done with a smart kid?"

"Make him stupid," Jason teased. He sighed again, whispering. "Timmy I'm sorry. I should have realized…where's Tyra?"

"Working." Tyra had received her Master's. Gone back to Chicago to submit her thesis and officially graduate. They were going to have a party for her. It got delayed, since she'd gotten a job with Carr County Social Services. So far he wasn't sure if she liked it or not. She hadn't really talked to him. They seemed to see each other in passing. Sometimes not at all, especially now that the kids were back in school.

I don't like that very much. Jason spoke again, breaking the silence. "Where's Lyla?"

"Working. Studying. Somewhere." He wasn't sure about that either. He glanced at the framed picture of the two of them on the edge of the desk. Lyla had put it there. It was his favorite. Lyla was walking away towards the sunset, holding her bouquet backwards and her veil drifting off from her fingers, looking at the camera, which Matt had been holding. He wasn't looking back at all, but Matt had got him on the side, looking at Garrity, his hands in his pockets. He liked it because it wasn't staged. They were actually walking off towards the tree to take staged pictures with the kids, before they got too tired at the party.

He'd been married about four months and had seen Garrity for a total of about three weeks in that time frame. Weekends. Always weekends. "She like medical school?"

"Its just classes. She started them early."

"What's wrong with you guys now?" Jason knew them too well, Tim realized he wouldn't be able to hide.

"Nothing."

Jason groaned. He could see him rubbing at his forehead, caught up in yet another Tim and Lyla relationship drama. "You guys are going to end up divorced."

That hurt. It seemed to cut right to his heart. "What?" he whispered. Divorce? No! That wasn't…he frowned, still staring at the picture. What the hell kind of a friend was Jason supposed to be to him if he would say that? "Six, what the hell?" he demanded. He stood up quickly, walking out of the office and onto the front porch, away from Stevie's prying ears. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not…that's not what I meant, I meant is that…Tim you guys have never had a real…you're adults now! You have three kids, she's in medical school, should you really have gotten married? I just wonder if this was you reacting in some way to…you know to Billy." Jason trailed off, almost laughing and sobbing. "Tim I'm sorry, you're my best friend, I want you happy but is this making you happy?"

"It is," he lied.

"Sure. You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"You just did it again, look Tim, I love you. You're my brother, okay? Lyla is also one of my best friends but I will always choose you over her and right now I am saying what I think, I get to do that, okay? After all the shit you have put me through over the years, I get to do that. I joked with the pool you guys would divorce but still end up together. I'm starting to wonder if that wouldn't be what's best for you both." Jason sighed again. He was exasperated. "That's my two cents, you didn't ask for it, but…look I'm sorry. How are you today? My comments in the last five minutes notwithstanding."

Whatever that meant. He looked out at the front yard, sitting on the banister. "I'm fine. I didn't…" He felt funny just thinking it. I didn't know. "I didn't know it was today," he murmured. Where was he a year ago now? Sitting with Lyla in Tennessee, probably at that little French bistro table she had in her apartment. They'd done a lot of sitting those couple of weeks. Lots of tea drinking. He wasn't a fan of coffee and he liked tea, but he'd left Nashville having lost the taste for it, given the amount they'd drank. Did that make him a bad person, not remembering? "I forgot."

"You didn't forget. You just don't let it consume you," Jason said immediately. Almost like he had it prepared. Probably did. He knows me too well. He sighed. "Tim I'm sorry. I wish I could do something."

You could come out here. Get drunk with me. He nodded. Couldn't do that, could they? "Say hi to Erin and the kid for me," he whispered. He ran his hand through his hair, sending it all ways. He got off the banister. "I'll talk to you later Six." He hung up before Jason could say anything, setting the phone aside and returning to the kitchen. Stevie was eating his noodles and watching something on Animal Planet, his favorite channel. "What's this?" he asked, jumping over the couch to sit next to him.

"Meerkats."

"Meerkats, huh?"

"Can we get one?"

"We have a horse." Thor needed to be fed. He'd do that later. Horse could wait another few minutes. He glanced at Stevie. Maybe they should get something else. He glanced at the open French doors, straight out to Thor, who was standing in his paddock, looking out at nothing. He cocked his head. "Maybe we should get another animal. What do you say to that?"

Stevie's eyes widened. "Yeah!"

"Yeah? Let's go."

"Now? What about Ricky and Nicky?"

"We'll surprise them." He stood up, just in time to see his wife walk through the door. His eyes lit up. "Wife!"

"Husband!" Lyla exclaimed, dropping her bag and running towards him, jumping up into his arms. She kissed him hard on the mouth. "I love you. I missed you. Let me down."

Such bossiness, he thought, dropping her down to the ground. Stevie ran over, hopping around her. "I missed you Lyla, I missed you!" he repeated over and over. He grabbed for his homework. "Look at my letters! I can write all the words!"

Give her some room, he thought with a smile. He reached around to grab her bag, dragging it to the stairs. He lifted it up and carried it to their room, dropping it onto the bed. He unzipped it and did what he usually did, which was upend it over an empty dresser drawer, leaving everything in a pile and mess. It was his silent way of telling her not to bother packing the suitcase again. He left it and went to the large window next to the bathroom, peering out into the backyard. What did Jason mean by what he said? It bothered him. A lot bothered him right now. Jason's attitude…the day…

How could I have forgotten, he wondered, biting at his lower lip. He looked over his shoulder when the floor creaked near the door. "What's Stevie doing?" he asked.

"Finishing his dinner."

"Think he's occupied enough?"

"You are not getting a quickie," she said, walking over and draped her arms around his neck, kissing him lightly. She smiled, her eyes softening. "Missed you." It'd been two weeks, she'd missed last weekend to work. She smiled sadly, looking away for a moment before glancing back to him. "You talk to Tyra today?"

He shook his head. Did she remember? Probably. "I forgot," he whispered.

"Oh…Tim."

"I forgot," he repeated, with a bit more emotion behind it. He let go of her, walking over to the bed, sitting at the edge. Did that make him a bad person? He looked up. "I forgot today…the accident…a year ago already. How…how?"

She went over to sit beside him, taking his hand into hers and squeezing hard. Ever the comfort, that was Garrity. "You've been busy. You have three boys," she whispered, her head resting on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, sighing and snuggling closer. "And honestly Tim, it doesn't make you a bad person." How was that, he wondered. He thought it did. "You're good. You're a very good person. I don't know how many times people need to tell you."

No one has ever told me that. Except for Becky and Coach. And you. He sighed. Buddy even said something like that once though. He looked sideways again, meeting her dark gaze. They weren't talking about the elephant in the room. "This isn't working," he whispered. Jason knew it. He was ignoring it. He looked away again. "It's gonna' be in two weeks…Billy's dead."

He had to remember they didn't go the same day. Billy held on, stubborn ass. For no reason. Tim reached up and covered his face with his hands, his palms warm on his face. He wasn't sure what to think of anything. It had been an entire year and what had changed? He had three boys when a year ago Lyla had lost their baby. He was married to her and a year ago they'd only spoken that one time. He was barely talking to Tyra and now they had shared custody and were basically divorced parents. Landry was living in LA and selling his songs when he'd been a substitute teacher and barback. How had things changed so much? Even the boys were grown. He looked back at her, tortured. "Jason thinks we're gonna' divorce," he breathed.

A look flicked over her face. "Asshole," she whispered, but there wasn't a lot behind it. She rubbed at her eyes, looking sideways at him. She smiled sadly. "We probably didn't think about a lot of this. In the moment and all…what do you want to do?"

What did he want to do? He wanted to stay with her. Not listen to Jason. He shrugged, muttering. "Whatever you want to do."

"We need to work on this. I don't want to become my parents."

Yeah…work on it. Coach had told him something like that after the wedding. _Now your father isn't here son and the only stable male influence in your life has passed. I think if Billy were here today he'd want me to say something to you and I will. This is not to be taken lightly. You work on it. The boys don't need anymore rocking the boat in their young lives and you don't need it either. There are days where Tami probably wants to drown me in the lake and some days where it's the same with me to her, but we work on it. It's a living, breathing thing, marriage. Remember that, if anything I say to you right now._

It's a living, breathing thing…too much had changed. He scrubbed his face again, breathing. "Work on it, okay."

She rubbed at his back, looking off into space. "I don't like what I'm doing right now." She took a deep breath, lifting her eyes up to the ceiling. "I'm like a month in and I don't like it. Life is too short."

That's why we're together. That's why I'm with the boys and I have fun and I hate when I'm bored. Life is too short. "No regrets Garrity," he said, firmly. Do not do something because you think it is expected. It isn't worth it.

She smiled again, squeezing at his shoulder and touched her head to his, whispering. "I'm going to leave medical school."

"Never thought it was for you anyway."

"What do you think I should do?"

They were married, right? Married people talked about these things. He leaned backwards onto the bed, pulling her with him, her head on his chest. He looked at the ceiling, waiting a moment. She still didn't say anything. "Honestly Garrity?" he glanced down at her, where she was waiting, expectant. He smiled again. "I love you but my interests are not in the same place as yours."

She smiled. "At least you're honest."

I want you to stay here with me, forever, but I know that right now that's impossible. Maybe we did rush this. We didn't think. Too caught up in the moment. They'd let their judgment lapse. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. "Do what you want to do. That's what matters."

"I think I want to do therapy." She waited a moment, looking at him again and smiled. That seemed surprising. "I did my time in Africa teaching and…and helping build water systems and houses and all that…because I didn't know what I wanted to do Tim. I really didn't. I wanted to be with Jason and then I wanted to be with the church and Chris and then I wanted to be with you and Texas and all that and…and I get to Vanderbilt and before I know it I'm in a sorority and I've got a fraternity boyfriend and life is all good and I still don't know what I wanted to do." She propped her head up on her hand, reaching to fiddle with the zipper on his pullover. "I graduated with a degree in Organizational Management and another in Biology, I mean…it wasn't like I even narrowed on a field…so I went to Africa and I traveled and I found myself or so I thought." She looked at him again, the words unspoken.

The trip to Mexico. The baby. Losing the baby. Billy and Mindy's accident. It all changed in that short three-month span. He squeezed her hand. "You're still living in the moment, I take it."

"Yeah."

"So what do you want to do?"

She shrugged again, her voice soft and lifted her eyes to his. "I want to help people Tim, that's all I was ever good at and…and I love doing it. I love helping Stevie and the twins and you and the kids in Africa and…and I love it. I just want to help people."

We can talk more about this later. He kissed her knuckles, dropping her hand back down to the bed, turning his gaze away and looked at the ceiling. This was a weird day. "Can we do this later?" he asked.

"Yeah." She waited a moment, tapping the top of his hand. "You want to go out to get something to eat?"

"We had old Chinese food."

Lyla turned her head when the door pushed open, Stevie walking in with his hands over his eyes. She frowned. "What are you doing?" Tim had to agree.

"Tyra told me to close my eyes walking into people's rooms without knocking."

"Well knock," Tim advised.

Stevie dropped his hands, sighing and rocked on his feet. "I want to get ice cream."

"And some more food for dinner," Lyla suggested, climbing over him and off the bed. She took Stevie's hand, glancing at him and smiled. He wasn't sure what to make of their conversation or where they stood. She paused at the door, turning again. "Tim…if you want to be alone…"

Believe it or not I don't want to be alone. Not today. He jumped off the bed, walking out the door and picked up Stevie. "Not today," he said, hauling Stevie over his shoulder and went down the stairs. He sighed. It was just another day on the calendar, he supposed.


	23. This Are Gonna' Get Crazy

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, this chapter is incredibly silly and kind of jumps around a lot, mostly because I wanted to have a happy chapter. It gets slightly emotional in the next few. There's probably about five chapters left before the end, so there you have it. Enjoy.

* * *

_**23. ...Things Are Gonna' Get Crazy**_

"Go Stevie!" Tyra jumped up and down on the sidelines, not bothering with the lawn chair she'd brought with her, waving her arms in the air in cheer as Stevie crossed the endzone and flipped the ball up in the air backwards over his shoulder, walking off with his hands on his little hips. It was something he'd been doing each time he scored a touchdown. She swore it was familiar. Lyla had answered it for her one day, it was Tim's move after he scored touchdowns. He didn't make a big deal of it, just flipped the ball over his shoulder and walked off to breathe and prepare for the next.

She grinned, clapping her hands when he ran over to the sidelines as the little kicker took the field. I want to go hug him, but when she'd done that at the last game, he'd told her not to do that, it was "embrasing." Embarrassing, ugh, he was already hitting that age. Well screw it, she thought, running over and up behind him, giving him a big kiss on the cheek when he pulled his helmet off.

"No!" he exclaimed, giggling. He scowled immediately. "Tyra, I'm grown-up."

You are no such thing. She smiled. "Good touchdown. I'll be back over with your…" she trailed off, frowning. Where did the twins go? She caught sight of their red t-shirts. It was much easier to dress them relatively alike. It wasn't kitschy, because they looked nothing alike. "Nevermind." Ricky and Nicky were on the playground, zooming up and down the slide.

"You think of them for Pee Wee?" she heard a familiar voice ask beside her.

She smiled, turning and grinning at Jason. He grinned back at her. "What are you doing here?" she laughed, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. She liked Jason. Always had. Not that they kept in touch or anything. She looked around, expecting to see his wife or son. "Where's the family?"

"With my mom and dad, I escaped long enough to come see Stevie. Heard he's good." He smiled again, cocking his head. "He need an agent?"

"Don't inflate his ego more than it is." She looked up in time to see the Gators get an interception. So Stevie would be out there to show off his skills. She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking over when she saw Tim's truck zoom into the parking lot, almost on a hairpin turn. Oh God. "Does Tim know you're here?" she asked, her voice quickening when she saw him fly out of the front seat, leaving the door open as he ran towards her. Oh no, oh no…who…who was it, she thought, panicking. Her eyes widened. Mrs. T? Matt? No, Julie was pregnant it couldn't be her…

Jason must have seen the shock on her face, his eyes widening in surprise. "Tyra, is everything…" he turned, following her look. "Oh no. Timmy!"

It wasn't until Tim got close enough did she see he wasn't running to give bad news. He let out a loud giggle, which was the only word she could think to call it and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her clear into the air. She yelped, drawing more attention to them than they already had with Tim Riggins running like he was in the Olympics. "What the hell!?" she exclaimed, punching his shoulders in an effort to get him to drop her, which he did, flying towards Stevie, who had just scored another touchdown.

"Stevie!" he yelled, lifting him up high into the air. "You're gonna' be a big brother! Times two!"

A big brother!? She spun her head to look at Jason and then to Tim again. What the hell was he blathering about? "Are you drunk?" she demanded.

Tim grinned, his cheeks flushed. He was definitely not drunk. In fact, he looked happier than she'd almost ever seen him. He grabbed her again, kissed her clean on the lips and ran off again, yelling to the twins they were going to be middle brothers. She looked at Jason, who was laughing behind his fists, unable to contain himself. "What is he going on about?" she asked. She didn't get it.

Jason shrugged. "Do the math. Seems he finally did what Buddy Garrity has long feared and prayed would never come to fruition."

What would that be? She looked over at him for a second, spinning in circles with the twins. Oh my God. She yanked her cell phone out, as Stevie ran over to ask Jason if he'd seen his touchdown, which Jason had, despite Tim's insane interruption. It rang a few times, a matter-of-fact voice answering. "Lyla Garrity."

"Why haven't you changed to Riggins?"

"The idea of me being Lyla Riggins is still a bit too much to handle, for myself and my father. What can I help you with Tyra, I'm in the middle of something right now."

"Your husband is causing quite a scene at the Pee Wee football game."

"He's very excited."

I'll say. He looked like an escaped mental patient. "He gave me a heart attack, I thought someone was in another car accident and died," she snapped. She wouldn't ever forgive him for that. Surely there was another way he could have shared the good news. She sighed, her arm wrapping around her stomach. The nail was in the coffin. "So it seems your divorce plans never panned out."

Lyla sighed, her voice dropping. "Well we didn't think it was necessary. We'll work on our problems."

That was an understatement. My life is normal compared to yours. And I haven't had a boyfriend since Landry and he went off to be famous. Even then it wasn't so much dating as reliving and finishing what they'd started in high school. She didn't prevent the judgment seeping into her voice. She could judge all she wanted of Tim and Lyla. "Bit of a problem, you being four hours away with his kid." The line went silent. So silent she thought Lyla had hung up, but then she figured she'd get the beep and lose the call completely. She waited a second, walking away and frowning. "Hello?"

"I'm still here. I'm not going to discuss this with you and I'm going to go. Tim really shouldn't be screaming about this either, I'm only ten weeks." Lyla sighed, her voice dropping to a bare whisper. "I don't have a good track record."

I'm sorry, she thought instantly. Lyla was probably stressed enough. She looked over at where Tim was running at Buddy. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Did you tell your dad?"

"No, not yet, I was going to tell him at dinner tonight."

"Did you tell Tim you'd tell Buddy?"

"Yes, but…" Lyla became immediately suspicious. "Why?"

Tyra watched as Tim grabbed Buddy in the same bear hug he'd done with her and Jason, only Buddy didn't seem too thrilled. She chuckled. Now Buddy was turning beet red. "Because I think Tim already is…this is fun, I need some popcorn."

A growl left the other woman. "I'm killing him." The phone did go dead this time.

I'm happy for him, I am, she thought, going over to Jason, who was watching the game again. Stevie ran the ball up the sideline, dropping when the little boys grabbed for him. He jumped back up again, waving his arms and running to Tim, forgetting he needed to get back in line for the second play. She walked over to Riggins, who lifted Stevie up, said something to him and the little boy was back off again. "Your wife is on to you, you better escape for Mexico."

"Buddy needed to know," Tim said defensively. He threw his arms in the air, laughing. "Everyone needs to know!" He dropped them to his sides and reached for her again, pulling her in for a hug. He sighed, his arms linked around her shoulders. "I love you. This is a big day."

It was a big day. She smiled softly, feeling much calmer. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed, her hands spreading over his back. "I'm so happy for you," she said, chuckling. She rolled her eyes, pulling away. "Especially since you're actually getting laid."

"Six can help you with that."

Excuse me? Jason had the same thought, rolling up to them. "What are you talking about or do I not want to know?"

"You don't want to know," she said.

Tim jumped a little in place, reaching for Jason, his arm going over his shoulders and dragging him, wheelchair and all, a few inches over so they were closer. Jason grabbed the sides of the chair to stabilize himself, shooting a look to Tim. "You've gone insane," he decided. He laughed. "I have never seen you like this Riggins."

"I'm happy."

You can't often say that, she thought. It was a happy day. She glanced at her watch. It was a fancy one she'd bought herself when she graduated UT. A congratulations gift since she had more than a lot to celebrate. It had a perpetual date on it. It was early November. Time was going so quickly. Almost Thanksgiving, even. Another round of holidays…Stevie was going to be six in four days. She sighed, reaching for Tim, her arms around him again. "We need to think of something for Stevie's birthday. It's a big one. Six-years old."

Would be two birthdays without his parents. Last year they'd almost forgot it. She looked at Tim, who smiled a bit. He looked up at the sky. Was he thinking about them? She tried not to think of Mindy, but couldn't help it sometimes. Billy would be running around excited, she was sure of that. "The baby's name is going to be Billy," he murmured.

That was a given. She closed her eyes, still holding him. "Things are really going to be different now." There was a baby. The twins were always used to being the babies. Now they were going to be the middle siblings…the baby was with Lyla for the next six months, obviously, but soon the baby would be with Tim and…and she wasn't sure what that meant for the kids. They'd have a…cousin? Brother? Brother-cousin? That sounded so…hillbilly.

"We weren't planning it. It just happened."

She finally did pull away, touching her forehead to his briefly before letting go of him completely, her arms crossing over her chest as she cocked her head, grinning. "You don't need to defend yourself Tim. You're practically thirty."

He scowled. "Give me three more years, seriously."

"Closer to thirty than twenty."

"And you're right behind me there Collette."

"Ah!" She held up her finger, arching an eyebrow. "I wasn't the one held back because he was good on the football field, now was I?"

"That was a rumor."

"Buddy Garrity basically told Billy the truth and he told Mindy who told me, you were too good in football, they made up some crap and changed your grades and held you back a year in elementary school."

Tim waved his hand, blowing it off. "Who cares, I'm done with that crap, never helped me in the first place." He sighed, his hands on his hips. He reached up and pushed his sunglasses back on. "What are we getting this kid for his birthday, huh? I got him a sibling, but Garrity's gotta' cook that for six more months."

Maybe we could get him another football? She sucked at birthday gift ideas. "Tickets to Crucifictorious? I know the bandleader."

"No one wants those."

Only half of Texas. With a production studio behind them, Crucifictorious actually sounded good. Plus Devin and Landry had this whole duet thing going on with a banjo and a fiddle that had somehow escaped the alterative rock angle and it was gaining traction as another hit for him. She shrugged. "I'm out."

Tim looked over to the parking lot as a dark blue Jeep Cherokee swung into the parking space beside his truck. His face went slack as the small dark-haired hurricane blew from the front seat. Huh, she thought. Apparently Lyla wasn't in Austin today. "Uh-oh."

There was no calm in that storm, it was category five all the way, she thought. "Run, run, run!" she yelled as he took off towards the playground. She shrugged as Lyla blew by her and Jason. "I don't know where he went!"

Jason wheeled himself up to her, laughing hysterically. "He's so happy, this is killing me."

He was, even as Lyla tried tackling him. The twins jumped on board, any chance for a fight. She'd heard Buddy and Tim both talk about their prospects on the football field. So far they liked hitting each other as opposed to throwing the ball, which had Buddy Garrity and even Coach Taylor talking like they would be either linebackers or maybe offensive line, depending on their size. They were three, she wanted to shout, they can't grow up. Neither could Stevie, even if he was going to be six. She placed her hands on her hips, looking to Jason. "You want to come to a birthday party on Sunday?"

"Would I? Hell yes, Riggins parties are the best."

"Hey," she said, holding her finger up. She laughed. "That Homecoming party the year you broke your neck? I made Billy and I boatload. I planned the best Homecoming party."

"I wasn't really in the mood that year, so I'll have to take your word for it."

Yeah, she thought, running her tongue over her teeth. That wasn't the best year for him. Changed her thought. She nudged her foot to his wheelchair. "Did I ever tell you that your accident was what got me into gear?" She waited for him to say something, but he didn't, peering up at her, curious. It was an odd place for her to say it, but she wanted to say it. "I mean…I wasn't in the best place or on the best track and nothing was getting me out, but…you know your accident kind of knocked me straight." She laughed, biting her lower lip and smiled. "Kind of was the catalyst that started all this. Odd as it is."

For a moment she thought he'd get angry. She was basically telling him her life was good, or sort of close to good, because his future ended that night. He looked at his feet and back up to her, smiling. Thank God, she thought, relieved he wasn't angry. "I should be mad, but…" he shook his head, laughing. "Hell Tyra my accident set a lot of things…it was the catalyst for a lot. I don't think I would change it, I mean…if I could have everything now and you and…" he trailed off, his face immediately softening at the sight of Tim, who was still grinning, almost a record for him to be smiling this long. "I mean, look at my best friend over there, you know? Could you imagine a world years ago where he'd be running around screaming in happiness that he was going to be a dad?"

I can't imagine a world where Tim was a dad, but look at us, raising three boys for the last year. "There's a lot that changes," she said. She swallowed hard. It was an interesting concept. She blinked back some pricks of tears. "I want my sister back Jason and I would change everything to get her back. I'm not ashamed to say that."

Jason's face softened again, sad. "Even if it means Tim isn't happy right now?" he whispered. She knew what he was saying. Oddly enough the accident and Billy's death prompted Lyla to come back to Tim. To help him and for them to be together. She knew it was selfish, but she nodded quickly, mouthing the word 'yeah.' It meant she'd have her sister back. He nodded in understanding. "Yeah. I get it."

It seems bad, but…she shrugged, whispering. "I have a feeling those two would have found some other way. Some other excuse. They didn't break up because they didn't love each other, you know." It wasn't like Landry and I. I didn't love him that way. I didn't want it. I did it all so poorly, I'd change it all, but that didn't mean she'd change the outcome. She figured if Tim and Lyla wanted each other badly enough they'd make it work and somehow they'd come out of this married with a kid on the way instead of really good friends like her and Landry.

She felt way too emotional right now. Damn Tim for doing this to her. She turned and faced the football field again, clapping her hands and yelling. "Go Stevie! Come on!" She walked away from Jason and took her seat in the lawn chair, stretching her feet out in front of her and digging the heel of her Nike into the grass. She reached for her phone, taking a couple of pictures of Stevie playing.

I'm sorry you can't see this, she thought, looking up at the sky. If you believed that sort of thing. She leaned farther back into the lawn chair. Ricky wandered over to her. "I'm getting' a brudder," he said, climbing into her lap.

"Or a sister." Riggins were probably incapable of having girls, so she suspected he might be right.

Ricky leaned his head into her, closing his eyes. "I'm sleepy. And hungry."

Tyra leaned over into the tote bag beside her, removing an apple juicebox. She poked the straw in, because he had trouble with that, and passed it to him. She kissed the top of his head. "Love you." The littlest one wasn't so much the little one anymore, she sighed. They were getting way too big. Ricky was outgrowing even Stevie's old clothes. She wanted to avoid getting new wardrobes for all of them every time they grew an inch. Just because she had a fulltime job with DCFS didn't mean she was rolling in it. She still had bills of her own.

She cuddled with Ricky, enjoying the nice fall Saturday morning. A few minutes later Tim and Lyla approached, looking far more relaxed than they had been a minute ago. "We're going to pick out paint for the baby's room," Tim said. He had Nicky on his shoulders. "Nick's coming with us, he wants to see the paint mixer machine." He looked at Ricky. "You want to come?"

"No," Ricky chirped.

"Okey doke, no complaining later." The twins both had a bad habit of wanting want the other had even after they said they didn't. Twin thing. Sibling thing. Human thing, Tyra figured it was all three. He waited a moment. "Come on, come with us, don't leave your brother alone."

Ricky made a face and giggled. "Okay."

She looked up at him again. "We have to decide with Stevie."

Lyla took Nicky. "I can take the boys if you want, while you guys get the things for Stevie."

Tim shrugged. "How about after his game and he gets cleaned up? We'll see you at the house."

"He's with me tonight, remember?" Tyra didn't like them going to Tim's when they were supposed to be with her. It changed them up and they didn't like it and she hated having to get them on the right schedule again.

"Oh yeah." He shrugged. "I'll drop them off, Lyla can stay with them at your house."

"Yeah I can do that, it'll be fine, and we'll have fun, right boys?" The boys ignored her, both of them picking at some rocks in the dirt. Tyra smiled a little. Their obsession with Lyla had diminished significantly since she became a permanent fixture at Tim's house. Now she was the fun one, because Lyla made them eat healthy and play outside all the time. No video games either.

Tim bumped his fist into her shoulder. She reached back, squeezing his wrist lightly. "Later, I'll have him at your house by five."

"Kay." It gave her time to think about what to get Stevie for his birthday. He was still into art. He adored football. He wasn't going to the psychologist as often, just once a month now and it all seemed to be working for him. He was a happy kid. Rarely mentioned Billy and Mindy anymore and he still switched out calling her Mom and Tyra. Same for Tim.

The game continued on. It ended, the Gators winning over the Bears. "Yay!" Stevie cheered, running to her and holding aloft his aftergame snack of juice and a granola bar. "I won!"

"You all won," she corrected, taking his helmet. "You want to change at the car or wait until we get home and get a shower?"

"I don't need a shower." He was head to toe covered in grass stains and mud. He slurped the juicebox, following her when she led him towards her car. He coughed a few times, sniffing. Gosh I hope you're not sick, she begged silently. She opened the door, gesturing for him to get inside. "How come you don't got a new car? Lyla got a new car."

Lyla also picked up a job as a physical therapist. Little Miss Garrity was a woman of many talents. Tyra always thought she had no idea what to do with her life, but then she'd met Lyla after all these years. Lyla was certified in all kinds of random things, unable to focus on one particular occupation. She wanted to be a child therapist, but now Tyra saw her leaning more and more towards the physical therapy. Getting a Master's in Kinesiology or something now. "Lyla married Uncle Tim, she has Tim's money now."

"That's not very nice, that's his money."

"When you're married it becomes a communistic sort of arrangement," she said. She climbed into the car, wondering where Jason had gone off. She supposed he was with Tim. She shrugged, looking into the backseat. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"A million bucks."

"That's not happening."

"I don't know." Stevie was the only kid that couldn't answer that question, she figured. Guess it was just more Legos and action figures. Throw in a new football and some jerseys and he was probably set.

Well we'll have to figure it out in time for the party. It was going to be a bunch of his friends from school and the football team and as much family as she could muster in early November. Matt and Julie were going to be in town for Thanksgiving, so she'd see them in a few weeks but she guessed it was just her mom, Buddy, and the rest.

They got home, Stevie went up to clean, complaining the whole way. She ignored him, grabbing leftover spaghetti from the fridge. She ate it cold and flipped through bills, rolling her eyes at a few of them. Stevie had to get his eyes checked, according to the school nurse and she'd taken him for a checkup. He didn't need glasses. Yet. That was a random expense for nothing, she thought, throwing them into her bag to take to work. "Huh," she wondered out loud, grabbing one envelope. It was from Carr Correctional.

She opened it up. Never good to get something from prison, she guessed, and pulled it out, scanning the contents. Oh my God. She laughed, grabbing the phone and hit a number quickly. It rang a few times, before going to voicemail. She figured. "Hey it's Tyra, um, I just wanted to tell someone but you know how I put out all one million of those resumes? Well I got a response back um, a few months too late honestly, but it's better pay and all from the prison. Can you see me in prison?" She laughed and then realized how it sounded. She shook her head. "Don't answer that. Hope LA is fun. Later."

Prison, she thought, setting the letter in her bag. It was Saturday. No one would be there to answer, but…wow, she thought, laughing. She wanted to yell. This would be a really good gig. Prison counselor. She wouldn't be working for the county, Carr Correctional was a state prison. It would mean Texas State benefits and…oh my gosh, this could be good. This could be the break she'd been looking for. It just kind of popped up too.

The shower turned off and a few minutes later, Stevie was walking downstairs holding a bath towel around his waist, his hair sticking up. "I want it like Tim's," he said.

"Tim doesn't do anything to his hair."

"The spikes."

"Oh, the spikes." Since Tim had chopped off his hair, it trended towards spikiness, sticking up in all places because he refused to do anything other than wash it and run a towel over it in the morning. She took him back upstairs, laughing as he kept the towel tight at his waist. "You don't want to put on your robe?"

"Robes are for babies. I'm a man."

"I see."

"Uncle Tim doesn't wear a shirt. I won't wear one either," Stevie announced, as she reached for some of her mousse, squirting it into her hand deftly so he wouldn't see. She ran her fingers through his hair, scrunching at the blond stairs for a few seconds. He looked in the mirror, grinning happily. "That's right."

"Good." She kissed his cheek, patting his butt. "Go get dressed."

"I'm going to be like Daddy."

"Okay then." So that meant flannel shirt and jeans, she guessed. She went downstairs, looking out the front window at the same time Tim's truck pulled to a stop behind her crappy Jeep. "Stevie! Lyla's here!" She still had no idea what to get the kid. Ugh. This sucked.

The front door opened, Ricky and Nicky wandering in, followed by Lyla, who set down her bag on the overstuffed armchair by the front door. It took Tyra a moment of truly focusing on her to see the differences she probably should have noticed before. Her face was a bit more glowing, she had put on a couple pounds and yeah, her shirt was a little tighter on her chest. "Do they need dinner?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, there's leftovers, they'll live." Tyra smiled, being bitchy. It was always fun to antagonize Lyla. "You're positively glowing."

"You puke for five hours straight every day for two months and you'll get that glow too," she said. She lightly touched her stomach. She sighed, glancing away and fiddled with the strap of her tote bag. "Tim should know better. We still have two more weeks."

"He was excited," she said, defending him. He had good reason to be happy. She smiled again. "He loves you. I could never have imagined a day where Tim would be happy to be a father, but a lot has changed this year. I think he sees he's actually good at it."

"He is," she agreed. Lyla touched her stomach again, chuckling. She tossed her hair from her eyes. "I just wish he could have waited two more weeks."

"What did it? I mean…he was running around like…I don't know what."

Lyla swallowed hard, smiling again. "The doctor did an ultrasound this morning, um…" She reached into her bag and turned it towards Tyra, tapping the black and white image. It took a second, but Tyra saw it clear as day. There were two white fuzzy things staring at each other, perfectly opposite. "It's identical twins," she laughed, wiping at her eyes.

Oh my God, she thought, laughing. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, which was stupid, because she didn't cry. Like, ever. Especially at things like babies, which freaked her out. She wasn't a baby person. She bit her lower lip, holding the sonogram in her hands. Wow. That was kind of freaky. "They'll be identical?" she whispered, looking to Lyla for confirmation, which she received in the form of a slight nod. "Oh wow…you better hope they're not girls, shit Tim is going to be a mess."

"We find out in a few more weeks…" she trailed off, closing her eyes tight, placing the sonogram back into the tote bag. She hiccupped. "If my body can hold off on attacking them that long…the doctor's worried about some things, but…I think Tim is just excited. We got the news this morning, I think he was so…overwhelmed and all he had to share it with the world. Didn't even tell you it was twins, did he?"

"He was too freaked out I guess to mention it."

"Well either way, we're painting the room yellow and green. Check it out." Lyla removed a swatch of wallpaper, with monkeys and giraffes and elephants. "Jungle theme."

"Perfect for the Riggins house."

"Yeah, well…don't let me keep you. Get Stevie a good gift, huh?"

Will do. She grabbed her bag and left, hopping into the truck beside Tim. "Twins?" she demanded, punching his shoulder hard. "Asshole."

"What?"

"You didn't want to tell me you were having identical twins! What is it with you Riggins huh? Twins run in the family I guess."

"Maybe it's in the water in Dillon," he wondered. He backed out of the driveway, shaking his head at the thought. He put the car into drive and headed towards town, but said nothing about their destination, nor did he ask her where she wanted to go. She let him drive. Maybe she'd tell him about her job offer.

Naw, it was nice to sit here in silence. The window was open, blowing cold air through the cab. She shrugged her coat a little tighter around her. Tim didn't move to turn the window up. She released a long sigh, finally turning her head and smiled in his direction. "So Stevie, huh? What are we getting this kid…" she trailed off as Tim pulled into a farm. "Oh no, no, no…."

"Yes!"

"No!"

Tim hopped out at the stables, walking around and waved to a woman riding a horse over. "Quinn!"

Quinn? That was his former policewoman girlfriend. She ran after him, scowling. "Lyla is going to kill you, we're here with your ex-girlfriend."

"You're my ex-girlfriend and I lived with you, she doesn't care." Tim smiled and gave Quinn a quick hug when the woman hopped off the pretty mare she'd been riding. "What's up Quinn?"

"Hey, how are things?"

"I'm having twins."

Quinn didn't miss a beat, smiling at him as she walked towards the barn with the horse at her side. "You look very fit for someone who is having twins." She handed the reins to a stablehand, taking off her cowboy hat and walked down the long corridor lined with stalls towards another which ran perpendicular. What the hell are we doing here, Tyra wondered. They were not getting this kid another horse. One horse for him was enough.

They stopped in front of a large stall, Quinn leaning over the side. Tim leaned against it, peering over the side. "What do you think Tyra? Think its time?"

Tyra took a turn over the side, closing her eyes briefly. Damn. "I don't know," she drawled. It was a huge responsibility. She shrugged. "Where will this stay? I mean, I work…"

"Well maybe it could go with Stevie." Tim leaned over and lifted up a wiggling English sheepdog puppy, holding the ball of cotton up to his face. He made an exaggerated frown and sad face. "Look how cute he is! We can't say no to his face, right?" He made kissing sounds and the puppy started licking his face all over. It was cute. Ugh. She closed her eyes. Don't do it Tyra. She held firm, shaking her head. It was too much. They couldn't get him a puppy. Tim pushed the fluffball into her arms. "Here, you take a minute."

"I think there might be something my dad got the other day you might like Tim, this way," Quinn said. She gestured, leading him down to the other side of the stable.

Shit. "You are cute," she said, as the puppy wiggled like a worm in her arms, trying to kiss her all over. She wrinkled his nose. "Your breath smells like a skunk." She glanced into the stall again. The mother was really pretty, a big white and gray sheepdog with her fur cut to her skin, less fluffy than the rest. The puppies were the same matching white and gray. They were walking cotton puffs. Shit, she thought again, setting the puppy down. There were six walking around. "Girl or boy," she wondered.

Tyra straightened up. It would teach Stevie responsibility. Even though she knew she'd end up cleaning after it most of the time. Damnit. A puppy might be nice to have, but…they were so hairy and…and they would get so big…ugh. She looked over at the sound of footsteps approaching, seeing Tim walking something towards her on a leash. Her eyes widened. "Oh no!"

"This is for me," Tim said.

Oh good. She laughed, reaching down to the animal. "Lyla is going to murder you dead."

"She'll get over it."

At Stevie's birthday party two days later, Tyra watched, enthralled as Tim brought out the pygmy goat to celebrate. She glanced sideways at her mother, who was just smiling behind the rim of her glass. "Wow," Angela drawled. "I didn't know Lyla could turn that color."

It was a rather pretty shade of purple, Tyra thought, cocking her head a little. "It's a wonder how she'll be able to raise those two children."

"It takes a village," Angela said, knocking her glass into Tyra's. She laughed, closing her eyes and rested her head on her shoulder. "Oh my…I miss your sister. She'd have loved this."

I know. It was certainly a party, Mindy did love those. Kids everywhere, people filtering in and out from somewhere or another. Lyla was trying her hardest not to kill her husband in front of people, while a goat began to chew up the garbage. You couldn't make this up, she thought. She looked around, finally locating Stevie, who was running around holding his new puppy, who kept stopping to sniff everything. They were calling him Gambit, who was Stevie's new favorite X-Men character.

Gambit would be living with her most of the time, with occasional visits to see his brothers Thor the horse and Oscar the pygmy goat. It was all so ridiculous. The goat was kind of cute though. Like a small dog, who kept his head on the ground mowing up garbage. Might actually save Tim and Lyla in the long run. She clinked her drink to her mother's again. "To Mindy," she whispered. Who would have loved to be here lapping this all up.

Angela sniffed, clicking her glass and whispering. "Yes. To my beautiful Mindy."

Tyra closed her eyes snuggled into her mother, relaxing for a moment. Until she opened an eye at the sound of crying, sitting up and sighed. Nicky was running to her, pointing to his skinned knee. In a case of sympathetic pain, his brother was sobbing and sitting in the grass, looking unharmed. She reached for him and pulled him into her arms, kissing his head. "It's okay," she cooed, standing up and carried him into the house to take care of it. It seemed her job was never done.


	24. It's Time to Break Free

_**24. ...It's Time to Break Free**_

"Tyra…hey…Tyra!" There was a quiet pause and then a loud hiss, right into her ear. "Tyra!"

She blinked a few times, opening her eyes a little more as she hugged her pillow tighter. "Stevie," she mumbled, smacking her arm to the other side of her queen-sized bed. She moved, snuggling deeper into her pillow. "Hmm…just get in."

"Don't mind if I do." The bed sagged and she opened one eye a little further. Stevie probably gained about a hundred extra pounds for the bed to move like that. A hand went over her shoulder and the hissing voice returned. "My wife won't like this, but okay."

Oh Jesus. "Tim!" she yelped, whipping around onto her back and grabbing the pillow, beating his shoulder with it. She dropped the pillow, glaring at him. Stunned, more like. He smiled, lying on the side of the bed usually reserved for…well no one had been there in awhile. Usually just Stevie or one of the twins when they wet the bed or had nightmares. She fell backwards onto the mattress, taking the pillow and shoving it over her face. Maybe she could smother herself to death. She pulled it off, staring at the ceiling. "What are you doing?" Her eyes rolled to the nightstand. The alarm clock's green numbers practically screamed it was two in the morning. She closed her eyes again. "Are you drunk?"

"Maybe." He seemed…off. He sighed, the bed springs squeaking as he moved a little, his arms wrapping around a pillow. She took a look at him. He was wearing an old t-shirt, an extra size too large on him, and a pair of workout pants with tennis shoes. So he ran out of the house like that. She rubbed her eyes. It was two in the morning. She couldn't deal with Riggins craziness at two in the morning.

She sighed, her eyes closing as she hugged her pillow beneath her again, turned towards him. "Hmm…why are you here? Lyla kick you out?"

"No." He frowned. "What the hell are you wearing?" She felt his hand pull at the strap to her nightie. "What if the kids come in here?"

"Then I put on a t-shirt, it's a nightgown, Tim."

"You never had anything like that before."

She opened her eyes, smacking his hand away from her shoulder and felt suddenly very subconscious about her violet colored nightgown. She climbed out of bed, grabbing for a t-shirt, which she threw on over the thing. She tugged on a pair of shorts over her underwear and went back to the bed, crawling beneath the covers. The heat was going in her house, she needed him to fix it when he got a chance so she couldn't be too nasty. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Lyla was going to kill her if she ever knew Tim had crawled into her bed.

Tim rolled onto his back, folding his hands over his stomach. "We found out the sex of the babies."

At two in the morning? Her stomach flipped. "Yeah?" she murmured. Two girls, two boys, which was it, she wondered. Identical for sure, she also wanted to know. "What is it?"

His voice caught, thick with emotion. "Two girls." He hiccupped. "Doc said the genes are the same or something. They're identical."

The doctor must have told them earlier. She remembered Lyla saying she was high risk and the doctor wanted her to have an amnio done. She smiled, her gaze focusing on his profile. He looked terrified. Very emotional. "Tim you have daughters now." It was going to be a new era. Seemed even more like it. Two more boys would have just added to the fray. Two girls? That was different. Tim had to switch everything now for them. "Congratulations Daddy," she whispered. It seemed more real now. Tim was having two more kids. She only had the three. He would have five. Wow.

He nodded and she saw his throat constrict. In profile he looked like some sort of tortured god-like statue. Perfectly sculpted, but the emotion wracking his usually sharp features. Turning them softer almost. The curtain wasn't closed completely on her windows and the relief made it all seem so much more dramatic. She wasn't sure what to make of him coming here. "I was just sleeping," he whispered. Okay, here it came. The explanation. It would be bit by bit and she wasn't sure she'd get the full story but at least it was something. "I was sleeping and I had this dream. Billy was there."

I've had dreams about Mindy. They seemed so real until she woke up and there was no more Mindy. I miss her, she thought idly. It no longer drove her into a sharp, aching pain. It was dull. Like a headache almost. "Tim," she said.

"He was there and…and we were in the back of the truck just…just drinking beer on the land. The house wasn't built all the way yet and…and it was so real." His voice cracked. "I thought he was back and…and he said something about how girls were going to kill me one day and…and he didn't want a girl but he wanted me to have one. To just see the difference and…and we talked about football. Something about football and I woke up." He hiccupped again. "And I don't know what happened but I was in my truck and I wanted to just…breathe. So I came here."

As nice as it was that he came to see her when he was panicking, he needed to go back home. Talk to Lyla about his fears, not her. She liked being his best friend, but he had another one he tended to trust a lot more with those deep dark secrets she still didn't know a lot about. "You need to go home," she whispered.

"I know."

"Tim you can't run away anymore."

"I'm not," he said defensively.

Aren't you? You're here, not home because you had a bad dream. She released a long sigh, peering straight at him again. He'd finally rolled his eyes towards her so they could actually see each other. He looked so terrified. She moved her arm, propping her head up on her hands, fiddling with the edge of her pillowcase. She looked down at it, speaking quietly. "Tim I helped you after prison, I would have helped you if Mindy hadn't been in the car with Billy." She lifted her eyes, her voice soft, but dead serious. I am not joking here. "But this? I'm not helping you with this. Lyla is your wife. This isn't high school. You can't run and hide from her."

"I'm not," he repeated. He seemed offended this time. He rolled onto his side, his arms still wrapped around his shoulders, scowling. "I just had a weird dream, she was sleeping…I thought you'd get it."

"I'd get it?"

"You got the kids." He paused, explaining himself as econd later, because she sure as hell didn't know what he was talking about. "You got the kids, the first real time you spent with them, don't lie about it Tyra. You were barely there and I saw them just about every day. It wasn't as big for me as you. This is big for me, okay? Twin girls and Garrity is half of them, okay? That's freaking crazy."

Two kids with half of Lyla's DNA and haf of his was pretty crazy. She smiled, joking a little, to lighten to mood up. "Those girls are going to be so prissy about keeping their boots dirty and their flannel clean."

It made him smile. That was the intent so she was glad she could at least help with that, but…she wasn't sure what else to say. They'd been on such odd terms over the past year. Really close and then really far. This probably felt so weird because they'd been so far lately. He had his life and she had hers. It was ironic because…well, they had three kids together. Yet they rarely spoke about anything other than them. Only saw each other when they traded the kids and sometimes not even that. When it was her days with them, she picked them up and when it was time to give them to him, he picked them up. She sighed again. I wish I could make things better for you. Thing is, you can't make them better for me, so… "You guys think of names?" she asked, changing the subject.

Maybe if she made him think it was…real or something. Focus on that fear. He'd be okay, she thought. She nibbled her lower lip, watching his reaction to the question. A scared look crossed over it and then he smiled briefly, his voice soft. "Well since they're girls…I mean…I guess…William is out." He cleared his throat, whispering. "Lyla likes the name Melinda. At least for a middle name for one or something…guess it all depends."

Melinda. Mindy. She felt tears start forming. Damnit! I hate crying, stop it Tyra. She coughed, to cover the clearing in her throat, willing the tears to go away. "You could name a little girl Billie. It'd be kind of cute actually."

"I dunno…Lyla likes the old fashioned names."

That's because Lyla is old-fashioned, she thought, but kept that opinion to herself. "Like what?" She wasn't having children other than the boys, so she liked to live vicariously. Julie was almost ready to pop on her little bun and so far they'd already decided on Henry or Lori. It was pretty easy for them, she thought. She'd gone overboard though buying the gifts. Matt and Julie didn't have a lot and while neither did she, she also had a lot of the stuff for the boys already bought or a least used.

He shrugged a shoulder, pushing himself up against her headboard. A tiny smile pulled at his lips and he looked down at his hands, twisting the silver wedding band on his left hand. It was Billy's. She hadn't realized it until after the wedding, when Lyla was showing Mrs. Taylor the diamond engagement ring Tim had got her. The wedding ring Mindy had originally was pure crap and turned her finger green. Billy had bought her a replacement after the Lions won State. It was twisted roses. She hadn't known Tim had taken it. She guessed it was fine, since she didn't want the wedding ring and it was Billy who bought it. She wasn't sure how she felt about Lyla wearing Mindy's ring, but…it was Tim's way and Lyla treasured it, so that was good.

Billy's wedding ring, on the other hand, was the same. There was an engraving it. The date of the wedding, he said it was so he wouldn't forget. He'd gotten the day wrong. They were married June 5. He had it June 6. Said then he'd remember it a day earlier than the day in the ring. If she remembered right, Billy had always forgotten the anniversary.

She supposed it wasn't a coincidence that Lyla had rushed the wedding. Maybe for other reason. Tim and Lyla got married June 6. "Your wife is very weird," she murmured.

"She wants to name one of the girls Millie. I told you, old-fashioned." He frowned, his voice quiet. "But she likes the name Scout. From a book. Or Scarlett. Another book."

"Scarlett Riggins? Sounds like a disease."

"I know." He pulled at the ring a little, drawing it up over his knuckle and pushing it back, pulling it up again over the second knuckle and then pushing it back, until he had it off his finger. He slipped it onto his thumb, twisting it a little before moving it from finger to finger, looking around her room. "Am I the only guy other than Landry to have been in this bed?"

"No." Yes.

He smirked, rolling his eyes at her. "Yeah, sure."

"You'll be the first one murdered in it."

"Of many I'm sure."

"Asshole," she said lovingly. See, we're friends. We love each other, tease each other…I just don't want you coming to wake me up at two in the morning with your craziness, she thought, sighing again. She pushed herself to sit up, smashing her pillow against her back and the headboard, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She wiggled her toes, looking at the pink nail polish. It was chipping, she had to get a pedicure. "So Mindy and Billie the Riggins twins? Doesn't seem weird to you?"

"Well that won't be their names. More like Henrietta or some stupid thing Lyla will find in a book from the 18th century."

"Don't give her ideas."

He shrugged again, mumbling. "I just want a Billy." He smiled, but it was much more pained. "He'd have nieces, Tyra…I don't know what to do with that." You can't process it. Jesus, Tim. You're almost 30 and having emotions tends to completely overwhelm you to the point of breakdown. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and he dropped his head to hers. His voice fell to a hushed whisper. "I'm having kids, Tyra…Billy would…what'd you think he'd think?"

Probably the same thing Mindy might think about me. "He'd be happy for you," she whispered. That was the truth. Billy would be over the moon, just like Tim had been for him. He was a good dad, as hard as that was for her to admit. Just like Tim was. With work, of course. "I think he'd be really proud. I think he is…" she trailed off. They'd made it over a year. The two of them, raising the three kids. She chewed her lip. This was it though. The definite change. "We need to talk to the boys about this."

"About what?"

"About the babies…they know Lyla has babies in her stomach, but that's it. I don't think they quite get what it means when the babies aren't there anymore."

Tim didn't seem interested. "Yeah…later though." He climbed out of bed, walking around to the door. She got up and followed him. He still seemed kind of off. I don't know if he should drive alone. She walked down the stairs and went to the door, pulling it open and revealing Lyla walking up the front step.

Lyla's arms fell to her side and she reached for Tim. "Come on baby."

Tim walked right to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry…I freaked out."

"Well at least you're admitting it," she chuckled, letting go of him and fiddling with her keys, turning to watch Tim walk to her car, climbing into the backseat, ostensibly to lie down. Lyla turned to face her. Shit, Tyra thought, bracing herself for a wrath. Hell, she would be livid if she were married to Tim and he was running off to see his ex-girlfriend in the middle of the night. Well…she shrugged a little at the thought. He had kind of done that when they were dating. She was livid.

So she automatically put up defenses. "I woke up to him in my room, okay?" She didn't need to know Tim had crawled in her bed. "I didn't ask him to come here and I told him he had to go."

Lyla smirked. "I'm not…mad. I mean, was I happy to wake up and find him gone? No. I keep waiting for that day. It just came now and I kind of knew it would." She looked very…odd, Tyra thought. Lyla was always small to her, maybe because she was practically six-feet tall and Lyla was eight inches shorter. Only now it seemed even odder because there was this big beach ball attached to tiny Lyla. She was standing kind of awkwardly, the way Tyra had witnessed Julie standing at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

She gestured to her. "How far are you?"

"About five months." Lyla rolled her eyes, her hand on her stomach. "Riggins babies are horses. I remember Mindy saying something about that when she was pregnant with Stevie. The doctor already has them on a projection to be about six pounds each which is huge for twins."

Oh gosh that was twelve pounds of baby not to mention all that other stuff. Tyra made a face like a gag. "I don't know how you do it," she shuddered.

"Carefully." Lyla smirked, reaching to play with the ponytail hanging over her shoulder. She glanced at the Jeep and then back to Tyra. "He's just freaked out. You're the only person who would know what he was going through so…here I am."

"I'm sorry."

"As I said…this is progress." Lyla seemed sad, but hopeful at the same time. "When Billy died…when Billy died I just drove as fast as I could to the airport. I had to be here for him, I just…I felt like there was a magnet. I found him a mess, Tyra…he was just a mess and I know you had your pain and…he wanted to drink. He wanted to be mean and he wanted to drink and he didn't. I don't know if he was me or…or Coach being there or what, but he didn't do it." She ran her tongue over her teeth, smiling, but Tyra could see the tears shining in her eyes from the glow off the porchlight. She tugged her keys, the chain jingling. "And I have that fear every single time something happens. He's going to lose it. He's going to drink a case of beer and never wake up, but…I think it's the boys. He doesn't do that anymore. He just…wanders off into his mind and that's where he went tonight."

He came to me tonight. That was strange. "He came here," she said, clearing her throat. It was too early for a lot of this. She had to go to work tomorrow. "He shouldn't do that."

"It's progress," Lyla simply said. She smiled again. "He's not good with change you know that."

Tim hated all forms of change but once they happened he adapted quickly. "Yeah."

"This is the biggest change in his life since his brother died and he became an instant father of three." Lyla swallowed hard. She shrugged again. "I don't like he came to you, but…as I said." She smiled again. "Progress. Eventually we'll get to a point where he won't need to run away."

I hope so, because otherwise he'd never grow out of his bad habits. Tyra leaned against the open door. It was absolutely freezing tonight. "Yeah, well…" she shrugged again. I don't know what to say to that. "He got away with it tonight because I'm single."

"I have a guy's number if you…"

"Oh God no."

Lyla chuckled. "He's really nice."

They're all really nice. Until they turn out to be serial killers. She shuddered. "No thanks."

"As you wish." Lyla turned and walked down the steps, holding her keys up and hesitating and then turned quickly on her heel, her brow furrowed slightly. "This is really hard to say, but…thank you Tyra."

And this is really hard to say too, she thought with a smirk. "Let's pretend this didn't happen."

"What, me being nice to you?"

"And me being nice to you. We have reputations."

Lyla flashed a quick smile and hurried to her Jeep, climbing into the front and backing out, driving away quickly, the engine hardly making a sound. Tyra remained on her front porch for a few minutes, watching the taillights disappear. She stepped back into the house and turned, jumping slightly at the sight of Stevie behind her. "Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, pointing. "Who zat'?'

"Nothing. Let's get you back to bed."

"Thirsty." So they got him a sip of water. He claimed the need to the bathroom, so she let him into that. Once water, bathroom, and some cough syrup for his little hack he had going on were done, she let him into her bed because he was just so adorably pathetic with his tiny cold and sleepy eyes. She pulled him against her, snuggling under the covers to get warm again. Stevie coughed a little and hugged her, mumbling. "I get sisters."

She smiled and hugged him. "Yeah."

"I think I heard Lyla."

"Hmm…yeah." She wasn't sure how much to tell Stevie, but she shrugged, answering his unanswered question about why Lyla was there in the middle of the night. "Uncle Tim had a bad dream and he came to talk to me about it. Lyla was picking him up."

"Oh." Stevie sniffed, closing his eyes. "He had a bad dream? He's a grown up."

"Sometimes grown ups have bad dreams."

"And they get a kiss to make it better."

Tyra dropped a kiss to his forehead. Yes. They get a kiss. Or a talking to, but yes. "Love you little guy," she murmured, smoothing her hand over his soft blond hair. She felt a surge go through her chest. She squeezed him harder and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep beside him. They'd talk to them soon. Once Tim's kids showed up on the scene, things were going to be a little different.


	25. When It Rains It Pours

**A/N: **Anyone still out there? The chapters are trickling down, but they're much longer because I'm trying to put as much story into one chapter as possible so I can end this fic quickly. Not sure if this will be my last fic or not, I'm noticing the traffic dwindling a lot on FNL sites and since my primary genre is Tim/Lyla, I don't think there's quite an audience for it on this site. We'll see what my imagination brings up, I have a couple of ideas, but who knows. To those still left, enjoy what remains of this fic. Thanks.

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_**25. ...When It Rains It Pours**_

"I don't want to do it," Stevie protested, ignoring Tim's commands he actually help out with dishes. Tim didn't think it was a big deal, but he'd come to realize getting the kids involved in things saved a lot of time for him. So he was pushing it tonight, because he had a ton of work to do, Ricky was sick with a cold, and Nicky was starting to come down with one too.

"Just do it," Tim advised.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Yes!"

Tim was about to say 'no' before he caught himself. He shot Stevie a look, slightly amused. Clever. "Nice, but yes!" he shouted back. He looked down as Ricky came into the kitchen. Aw, crap, he thought, just in time for Ricky to start looking queasy. He grabbed him around the middle and ran him to the bathroom, right as Lyla came around the corner. "Move!"

"Well it's not that easy!" she exclaimed, holding her stomach out of the way as he got Ricky to the bathroom in time. She winced, reaching to push her hair out of her eyes. "Oh no…it's the flu."

"Guess so," he thought, letting Ricky return whatever dinner he'd managed to get down to the outside world. Poor kid. Now they were all doomed. He looked at her, smiling quickly. "Don't you get sick. Can't afford that." He patted the top of her stomach, receiving a swift punch. "Nice! Who was that?"

"Mary."

"My little punter," he cooed.

She rolled her eyes, looking at Stevie. "Why aren't you helping with the dishes?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Well that's not a reason, let's go Mister."

Stevie shot her a look. Tim wondered what that was about. Usually Stevie did immediately what he was asked of Lyla. He smirked, gave her another defiant look, standing proud and lifting his cheek. "You're not my mom," he retorted.

Lyla's eyes widened, her mouth falling in shock. He glared at Stevie. "Say sorry, now," he ordered.

"It's true!" Stevie shouted.

Ricky began to cry, sitting on the floor of the bathroom. "Daddy!" he sobbed, reaching for Tim.

Oh geez. He reached down, lifting Ricky, just as Stevie ran over and punched Ricky's foot. "Stupid! He is not Daddy!"

What in God's name brought this on!? "Hey!" Tim barked, his voice going down an entire octave into threatening territory. He growled, furious with the kid now. "Say youre sorry."

"No!"

"Steven!" he yelled. He pushed Ricky at Lyla, who cuddled him, carrying him to the other room as best as she could at eight months into her pregnancy. He ran after Stevie, who immediately went white-faced and tore up the stairs away from him. He chased after him, grabbing the door before Stevie could shut it on his face. "Steven Hannibal Riggins!" He caught himself, drawing back before he could lean into Stevie, the little boy drawing back in fear. Oh God. He felt a chill go down his spine. I'm Walt, he immediately thought, looking at his hand, which was curled into a tight fist at his side. He stepped back again, blinking a few times. He took a couple of deep breaths. "Steven," he said, using Stevie's full name. "Apologize to your brother and to Lyla."

Stevie growled, the defiance returning when the fear had subsided. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's true. He's a baby and she's not my mom," he said. He stuck his lower lip out. "And you're not my dad."

"I'm as close to a dad as you're going to get," he said to the six-year old. It was the harsh truth of things. He didn't know what prompted this outburst, but whatever it was, it had been stewing since he'd picked Stevie up from school. He'd been short-tempered all evening and hadn't even wanted to read his book. Hadn't said a word in the drive back to the house. He wasn't sure what to do with this. Stevie didn't act out like this. Hadn't since the days Mindy and Bily died. Then there was his psychologist who he only recently stopped seeing. Maybe they needed to go back to her.

Stevie scowled up, his lower lip still protruding. "I hate you."

It hurt. It physically hurt. It also hurt to keep his face straight, when his first reaction was to storm off. He'd learned a lot over the last year. Don't run off. Confront him. He was six. He had no power in this house; I have the power. I'm the dad, he repeated, his fists still clenched, if only to keep his temper in check and not burst out yelling at the poor kid. "Well I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft and cool. He arched an eyebrow and his upper lip twitched, trying not to smile at how angry Stevie looked, for no reason he could tell. "I'm sorry you hate me."

"I want Daddy back."

"Daddy's dead," he said, keeping as calm as possible. Angry. He was angry. He stared Stevie down, whispering. "And youv'e got me and you have Tyra and you have Lyla. You're lucky. You could have no one."

"I do'tn care."

"I had no one. I hated it. No one to make you dinner, to tuck you in, and read you books."

That seemed to hit him a little. Ding his armor. "I…" Stevie trailed off, rising up again, and narrowed his eyes. "I don't care. I want my old family back. I hate this new one."

"Fine. Sit here until you can apologize."

"I'll sit here forever." He was a stubborn Riggins so of course he would. Tim turned around, closing the door behind him. He heard Stevie yell, beating his fists on the door. "I hate you! I want out! Let me out! I'm not sorry!"

I should beat his ass, he thought, but he didn't do anything. Stevie would not respond to any sort of physical punishment outside of being prevented from reading or drawing…he trailed off, oh…oh! He turned before he reached the end of the steps and ran to the room, pushing the door open. Stevie fell backwards, looking at him. He heard a loud 'no!' and grabbed the blue hardback book and the box of crayons.

"No!" Stevie sobbed. "That's mine!"

"You don't get it back until you apologize and talk to me about why you're acting like this and being mean." He looked down at Stevie, frowning, sad. It was so unlike him. "You're a nice boy Stevie. You're not mean and you're being very mean. You hurt Lyla's feelings and you hurt Ricky's feelings." So now I'm hurting yours, he wanted to say, but he didn't. He kept his back as straight as possible, holding onto the book as big fat tears dropped down Stevie's face. He swallowed hard. I hate this so much. "Are you sorry?"

Stevie was holding firm, wiping at his nose, shaking his head hard. Then fine, he thought. No book. He closed the door. He'd get him ready for bed in a few minutes. Hopefully he'd come to his senses by then. He set the book in his room, on the nightstand, and went down the hallway to the twins' room, where Lyla had them both in bed. A humidifier was going, there was a basket of used Kleenex between their little beds, and she was currently getting Ricky to drink a little bit of Pedialyte. "Come on," she cooed, rubbing his forehead. "Just a little…good boy. Okay, lie back down."

He leaned against the doorframe, watching as she tucked them in and stood slowly, her eyes closing. She pressed her hand to the small of her back, wincing and then leaned forward a bit, her other hand underneath her stomach. He cocked his head. It had dropped. It was up high on her waist for a long time. "You untie the strings back there or something?" he tried to joke, but he was concerned.

Lyla shook her head, walking out of the room. She had a monitor in her hand, carrying it to their room. "No." She sighed. "Did you check on Oscar?"

"He was eating apple rinds and sleeping with Thor." Oscar had quite taken to Thor and didn't leave his stall. The horse seemed to treat him like an annoying little brother. He closed the door. "Stevie is…"

"I heard you. You did good."

He sank down on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands, muttering. "I was my dad…I was so mad at him."

"You are not your father." She sat beside him, still holding her stomach. She rubbed at the small of his back, her head going to his shoulder. "You are not him, because you recognized it and you changed gears." Her gaze shifted to the book. She whistled low under her breath. "Ouch. He's going to hurt for that."

I had to get him to listen. "I think he thinks I joke all the time," he murmured. He looked down at her. She'd rolled her eyes up, listening quietly. He sighed. "I think he thinks I'm the easy one and…maybe I am. Billy was always the easy one."

"And Mommy is the disciplinarian. It shouldn't always be that way. Needs to be equal." She winced again, closing her eyes. He heard a low moan slip from her lips and she dropped her hands between her knees, before rocking back. "Ouch," she hissed.

Ouch!? OUCH!? "What?" he demanded, jumping to his feet. He stared at her, pointing at the stomach. "It dropped Garrity! The Doc told us what that means!"

"No, I'm not in labor, it's…it's contractions."

What the hell was it then!? She said it like it meant nothing, but he'd read the one chapter of the one pregnancy book he could get through without puking. That was labor! "That's not labor!?"

She shook her head quickly, slowly releasing another breath as she relaxed. "Oh, it's gone now," she sighed. She smiled briefly, moving back to the bed, stuffing a pillow in the small of her back. "They're those fake ones or something. It's okay. The doctor said I could have them for a few weeks before I finally am ready. I had one a few hours ago. It's fine."

He didn't think it was fine at all. "We should go to the hospital."

"No, talk to me about Stevie."

I don't know. "He was fine before school. Was weird after. Now he's yelling about how we're not his parents and his brother is a baby and…I don't know what's got into his little ass." Tim sat back down beside her. He stood up suddenly. I could figure this out quickly. He left the room and went to the kitchen. The dishes in the sink would keep for now. Lyla had cleaned the bathroom. There was stuff all over the living room but oh well. He picked up Stevie's backpack and carried it to the room, setting it between him and Lyla.

Lyla opened the bag, but he held back from nosing around. This was just…he didn't like this. Having to sneak into Stevie's stuff? Lyla sensed his hesitation. "Tim you're just finding out what he probably can't tell you even if he wanted to. He's six. His emotions are different. Besides, you're his guardian, his parent. You can go into his bag and take out his homework folder because…" she trailed off, opening up the red homework folder. She flicked through school lunch menus, a couple of flyers for festivals, and then removed a piece of construction paper. She set the folder aside and opened the paper, staring down at the images Stevie had painstakingly drawn.

Oh no, he thought, seeing the images. This was it. This was why he was upset. He cleared his throat, looking at the very good depictions of Tyra in one house, which looked like hers and him in front of his house, with Thor and Oscar, Lyla was there, and his two brothers, one on either side of him and Stevie in the middle. It was the two other people he almost fell apart on…Billy and Mindy standing in the clouds and waving. "Oh no," he whispered. At the top it said 'My Family.'

He took the paper, staring at the project, unable to think. Poor Stevie. Lyla took out another paper, hissing sharply. "It was Family Day," she whispered, reading it. She sighed. "The kids discuss their families. I bet…oh Jesus. Tim I bet he saw everyone else with moms and dads and all that and…and he can't think…Tim forget the book, just…just go…" she trailed off, getting ready to tell him to go, but he was already off the bed, holding the paper and going down the hall.

He knocked lightly on the door, waiting. Stevie replied, a soft, muffled "Come in." He pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him. He stood in front of it, looking at Stevie, who was on his bed, sheepish. "What?" he mumbled, reaching to toss a Lego piece to the other side of the room.

The bottom of his heel winced in memory response to the Lego pieces. "This," he said softly, turning the paper to face Stevie. He walked towards him and sat down on the bed, turning it towards him. I'm not good at this, he thought, swallowing hard. This was Tyra's territory or…or Mrs. Taylor's. Hell, Lyla would get farther than he probably could, but…this felt like something between them both. "Found this in your bag."

"Oh."

Tim moved closer, leaning his back against the wall. He stretched his legs out and put the paper on his knees. He tapped the picture of Stevie. "This you?"

"Yeah," Stevie said. He pulled at the bottom of his sock, uninterested. "Maybe."

"It is," he said again. How did he do this? Okay, deep breath Riggins. Dig deep. "Stevie," he said. He swallowed hard. I'm a terrible father. I can barely get through this. He looked at his hands, whispering. "Stevie did something happen today? At Family Day?"

Stevie lifted his head, his voice soft. "They made fun of me."

I'll wring all their necks, he silently vowed, his jaw setting. Elliott had warned Tyra last year this might start happening. Kids were evil little demons. They were cruel and what was so bad was they had no idea how cruel they were being and needed to be stopped before they could figure it out and become a bully. "They made fun of you?" he echoed.

He nodded quickly and looked up, his eyes shining. He sniffed and coughed, before crying and reaching for him, crawling into Tim's lap, his arms going around him. "I'm sorry," he cried.

Tim closed his eyes tight, his arms going around Stevie. I'm sorry too. He rocked with him, hugging as tight as Stevie wanted to be hugged. "What'd they say?" he whispered. He wanted to know so he could tell the teacher and scream at the top of his lungs how it had to be stopped. It wasn't fair. Kid lost his parents. Use it to teach everyone, like Elliott had done last year. "Come on, tell me. I'm going to find out, you know me. I know everything."

Stevie wiped at his eyes and turned his back to his chest, hugging his arms. Tim wrapped them around him a little more and Stevie squeezed tighter. "They said I was…stupid. I couldn't have a daddy and another daddy." He sniffed again. "They said I can't have two."

"Who said this?"

"Kyle and…and Marcus."

Those little shits. They'd been following Stevie from preschool to the first grade. "Next time they say something like that, tell them to shut up," he advised.

"They won't, I did. They followed me on the playground and wouldn't stop."

"What did you do?" He shrugged, which in Stevie speak meant he just sat there and let them taunt him. Tim closed his eyes, leaning his head to Stevie's. He wanted so much to tell Stevie to kick them in the shins, but he couldn't. The last time he'd said that, Tyra had had his head and Mrs. Taylor had called and told him to use all non-violent means. He took a deep breath. "They're mean kids Stevie. There's always going to be mean kids, but…but you need to tell them right back, okay? Tell them you can have whatever you want. They must not like anyone if they're mean to you. Besides, you better at football than them." Marcus couldn't catch a ball to save his life and Kyle was a baby, crying every time someone hit him.

"I can."

"And that's what matters, who cares what they think, you know? Let them think you can only have a mom and a dad, what about Angelo? What about his daddies, they're really nice, right? He doesn't have a Mommy."

"He's dopted'."

"He's adopted. He's got two dads and a sister and his grandmother lives with him too, right?" Stevie nodded. Tim tried to think of his other friends. He could barely remember Angelo, let alone the others. He snapped his fingers. "Marcie, you said Marcie's parents didn't live together."

"They're dorced."

"Divorced. They don't live together anymore and she's got another dad and two more brothers and sisters that don't live with her." He hugged Stevie, whispering into his ear, smiling. "You've got three moms and two dads. You've got two brothers and two sisters. You have a goat and a horse and Tyra has the bunny rabbit."

"Ears."

"Yeah, Ears." Ears was a floppy-eared rabbit he'd found for free at one of his job sites. Someone was getting rid of it after their kid was allergic. He'd brought it to the house, Lyla had taken one look, and she'd promptly told him he wasn't bringing another pet into the house when they were having twins in a few weeks. So Tyra got the rabbit. He gave him another hug. This wasn't over. He planned on at least telling Tyra and maybe they'd have to go talk to the teacher or something. "I like the picture. Can I keep it?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He looked over at another piece of paper on Stevie's nightstand. It was pink. It didn't look finished. He pointed. "What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah it is, show me."

Stevie sighed, leaning over and picked up the paper, pushing it into his lap and mumbling, drawing his feet beneath him. "It's nothing."

It was something. It was the three boys, Tyra, him, and Lyla. Only Lyla was holding two babies. In Stevie's neat print writing he'd written 'For My Sisters. From Stevie.' Tim smiled down at him. He got it. Tyra was freaked out that the kids didn't get they would have two little babies in the house for good. He thought they did, it didn't matter. "I think Lyla might like it a lot," he said softly. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. Better check with him now. "Um…you know when Lyla has the babies…you're not going to go away."

Stevie looked at him again. He was quiet for a moment. He swallowed. "Okay."

"You're not going anywhere Stevie. Things are gonna' change, I mean…they're gonna' cry and poop and eat all the time," he laughed. He got the kid to smile at the word 'poop', of course. Tim smiled again. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in, whispering to Stevie, but smiled at the same time. "I'm kind of nervous about them."

Stevie grinned. "You are?"

"Well yeah, I mean they're girls." That night he'd panicked and gone to Tyra's seemed like a lifetime ago. It was only three months ago too. It was practically April, Lyla was about to pop, and the room was already done up. They were planning on keeping it neutral, but Lyla had caved. He'd caved too. It was nothing but lavender and lace. Save for the giant football and Panther logo he'd had Matt Saracen paint on the wall during Thanksgiving. Matt didn't get dinner until he finished, he'd told him.

Stevie wrinkled his nose, instantly agreeing. "Yeah, girls are gross."

"I think they're kind of nice to look at though, I mean, Tyra and Lyla are really pretty, right?" He looked up when the door opened and gestured to Lyla, who stood in the doorway. "Come on, she's pretty, right? Not a gross girl."

The little boy made a face. "She looks sick."

"She's not sick." He looked over at Lyla, who was looking a little queasy. Oh geez, yeah she did look sick. He winced; a pregnant sick woman? Not a good combination. "You okay?"

"I'm going to bed, is everything okay in here?" Lyla walked carefully across the Lego and action figure strewn floor, setting the hardcover book beside Stevie's foot. She rested the box of crayons carefully atop it. A silent peace offering that everything was okay, he was forgiven for his outbursts that evening. She smiled briefly at him, reaching to brush at his blond hair. "How are you Stevie?"

"Better." He blinked through tears again, mumbling and looking at his hands. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. You were upset."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

Lyla chuckled, moving slowly onto the bed. She was extra pale, which was something because she was normally had the complexion of a vampire in the winter, Tim thought, frowning at her. She squeezed Stevie's tiny hand. "You were upset, but I don't think we need to repeat what Tim told you." She smiled again, cocking her head and whispering. "I wonder if you could help me downstairs with the dishes."

"Help me," Tim said, instead. He didn't want Lyla on her feet. He helped Stevie off the bed after the little boy finally acquiesced he had to help with chores. "Go downstairs and get the stool out but don't touch the water." He took Lyla's hands, looking down at her stomach. The drop worried him. He frowned. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"Fine," she breathed. Once Stevie was gone she'd lost some of the strength she'd been putting on for show. She reached for him, leaning harder on his shoulder. He helped her to the bed, feeling at her forehead which was pretty warm. "I'll call the doctor," she murmured. She couldn't take any sort of medicine, she'd have to fight it off herself, he realized. Damnit. It had knocked the twins out for a couple of days and if it wasn't a cold but the flu, since Ricky was getting sick… Lyla gave him another look. "I'm fine."

"Stop the heroics Garrity it's not attractive."

"I'm not being heroic," she protested.

Tim wasn't so sure. Lyla was the biggest martyr for the cause if there ever was one. He tucked a blanket around her and kissed her forehead. Damn. She didn't look good. He let go reluctantly, stepping backwards out of the room while she drifted to sleep. He checked the other hospital room, where the twins were actually sleeping. He felt at Ricky's forehead. Still warm, but…he took the thermometer, sticking it into his ear and punched the button, checking the digital readout. 100.1. Good, it was 101-something earlier that morning. He checked Nicky. Almost 100, but not quite. Good.

After cleaning up their room, he went to the kitchen, turning the sink on and began to rinse off the dishes before handing them to Stevie, who set them in the new dishwasher he'd finally scraped together the money to buy. They worked silently, until it was time for Stevie to wash up for bed. Once he put Stevie to bed, with one more 'we're okay' conversation, he went into his room, content to drop off without even bothering to change his clothes.

Except something was very wrong, he thought, the minute he walked into the room. He stood in the doorway, looking at Lyla, who was asleep in the bed. He approached her slowly, reaching to touch her hand. "Garrity," he whispered. She didn't move. He shook her head and didn't wake up. "Garrity!" Oh my God. He grabbed at her shoulders, shaking, until her eyes flickered slightly. She was too pale, he thought, waking her up. "Garrity," he repeated, his voice quickening. Oh no, oh God…no, don't do this to me, he silently begged. I can't lose her too…no... "Wake up!"

"What?" she breathed. She closed her eyes again. "No…no…" Lyla forced her eyes open a little more and gasped, letting out a strange painful sound, like she was too tired to actually yell. "Oh God!"

Tim pulled back the covers over her stomach. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but she was grabbing at her side again. Her right side. "Garrity," he said, trying to keep his voice in check. "You don't have the flu."

"I have the flu," she whispered.

"You don't have the flu," he repeated, grabbing at the phone. He punched the numbers quickly, waiting for it to ring before shouting. "Get over here now Tyra!"

It took approximately fifteen minutes for Tyra to show up and by the time she did, he had Lyla at least down in the foyer, where she was now more alert, but still grabbing at her side in pain, her face pale and sweating. Her fever was still raging and all Tim wanted to do was get her to the hospital immediately. Tyra ran into the house the moment he opened the door. "What's going on?" she demanded, shrugging off her coat. She pointed to Lyla. "Is she in labor?"

"She has appendicitis," Tim said. He knew it, it was just like Jason was in middle school. They'd been partying, their first real party with girls and booze, and he'd freaked out thinking Jason was having a bad reaction to alcohol, but it got worse as the night and then the morning went on that by the time they'd snuck back into Jason's room at six in the morning, he could barely stand.

Tyra's eyes expanded. "Appendicitis?"

"Yup, the kids have the flu but she's got something else I think. I'm getting her to the hospital, come on Garrity," he said, dragging her to the car. He'd tell Tyra about Stevie later.

_Five Hours Later_

Oh my God I am exhausted. The paper covered heels of his tennis shoes shuffled down the hallway and he reached up, removing the paper surgical hat they'd given him to cover his hair. He ran his fingers through it and leaned his shoulder against the wall, staring into the glass-fronted room, his eyes focusing on two little occupants, the cell phone ringing in his ear.

"Lo'?"

"Tyra."

Tyra was immediately alert. "Yeah, hey, what's happening? Sorry, I fell asleep."

Tim closed his eyes, sighing in relief. It was all fine. "Lyla's missing three things that were inside of her about five hours ago," he whispered. He touched his fingertips to the window, smiling.

"Three?"

"Yeah…they delivered the babies before they took her to get her appendix out." It had been so chaotic, once they got to the hospital. They wouldn't let him in while they did the examination of Lyla and took her for some tests. A doctor came out and told him they'd called her OB, who was on the way to do the C-section. He hadn't understood it until they explained since the twins were so close to term it would just be safer to deliver them now and take Lyla's appendix out, especially since she'd been having contractions. So they'd delivered them, ran her to the OR to take out her appendix, and after all that she was slowly waking up and the twins were happily wrapped like little burritos in their incubators in the NICU until they could put on some more weight.

He touched the window again, smiling stupidly at them. "They're so cute Tyra," he whispered, his head resting against the glass. He sighed, his breath fogging it slightly. "Geez, you should see them."

"I'm sure they're beautiful," she whispered.

It took Tim a second, but he closed his eyes, speaking softly. "Last time I was here Billy died…now here I am a year later."

"And Lyla just had twins."

Crazy Garrity couldn't do anything the right way, he thought with a smile. She'd had to get rushed in, have a bunch of people attend to her, and all was fine now. That's what mattered. All was okay. "Yeah…they're so little." He'd never seen a baby that small before, not even Stevie after he was born. Or the twins. He wasn't sure what to call them. They'd agreed on Mary for at least one of the girls, but…neither of them looked like it. They'd have to figure it out later.

Tyra sighed again, whispering. "I can't wait to see them. It's going to be so different."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad everyone is okay. Everyone is healthy."

He nodded again. He closed his eyes, whispering. "We can't bring the twins to the hospital until they get better, but Stevie can see them through the glass, if you want to bring him by before school or something."

"We'll see how it goes."

"Okay." He bit his lip, closing his eyes tight. It was like a new life now. "Stevie had a panic…thing. He's getting teased about having a…different…different family. Tell him the girls are here. He can add them to his new picture."

"What do you mean teased?"

"We can talk about it later." They'd grown by two now, he thought. They'd lost two last year and now had two more. It seemed even again. He disconnected with Tyra before he could lose it and walked away, stopping at the nurse's station. One of them asked if he was okay, but he said nothing. "I'm going to be back later," he said. "Do I need to sign…"

"Well Daddy," one of the nurse's said, teasing him. She wrapped a bracelet around his wrist, like the kind you got at concerts or museums, snapping it into place. She scanned it with a hand-held scanner, glancing at the computer. "Okay, you're in the system, just come in and we'll scan you in the next time."

Freaky. He discarded the surgical garments they'd given him, checked on Lyla, who was fast asleep, and then left the hospital, driving quickly across town. He hadn't called anyone else. All he'd wanted to do was tell at least one person. He parked the car and got out, walking up to the stone. He knelt and touched his knuckles to the engravings. He waited a long time before he spoke, his voice crystal clear. "You're an uncle," he said. He looked up at the sky and smiled. "I have kids. The world is going to end now." He stood up, still looking at the stone. It was truly changing. He stepped backwards, shrugging. "Just thought you should know."

He turned and walked back down to the truck, taking his cell phone out. Now he had to call the other person who needed to know. It rang once before the other side picked up. He smiled. "Coach? It's Tim."


	26. Those Glass Houses Break

_**26. ...Those Glass Houses Break**_

"It's just kind of unfair," Julie said, scanning through photos on Tyra's phone of the twins. She set it down, looking over at her, dead serious. "I mean seriously, this is just unfair, don't you think?" She turned the phone to her, one photo queued up.

Tyra barely glanced at it, since she was busy with little Henry, who was as cute as, if not cuter, than the Riggins girls. "Well what about this little button, huh?" she cooed, rubbing her nose to the three month old's, a smile pulling on his chubby face. He was nothing but rolls and smiles, far more active than the Riggins twins, who were currently in a phase where they refused to let Tim leave their side or else scream bloody murder.

Part of that was Tim's fault, she thought. He wouldn't put them down, one was always in his arm no matter what he was doing. Julie set the phone down, tapping at it. "Look how perfect t hey are. They could be a Town and Country ad."

She knew which photo to which Julie was referring. It was black and white, taken by Matt the last time he was in town, the proud parents looking down at their little girls, who were on a blanket out by the barn, which was fuzzy in the distance. It could be a Town and Country ad, what with Tim wearing flannel and jeans and Lyla in a gauzy white dress. "Yeah, well the girls have other issues," she said, lifting Henry up and dancing his feet on her knees, cooing to him. He let out a chortle, his eyes crinkling up.

"Ooh, gossip. What issues?"

Tyra shrugged. It wasn't a big deal. "Their sudden arrival kind of threw Lyla for a loop. You know how she likes to plan. Seems she and Tim never got around to actually discussing the parenting side of things." They were off-kilter all the time. Never agreeing. Snipping at each other. Only time she ever saw them not get like that was when the girls were sleeping and the boys were around.

Julie's jaw fell and she leaned over on the table. They were sitting outside on the small patio adjacent to Matt and Julie's loft, the summer weather in Chicago practically springlike today. She grinned. "Are they having problems?"

"Try not to sound so excited," she laughed. It wasn't good. She shrugged, continuing to play with Henry. It didn't feel good anymore to gossip about Tim and Lyla or make fun of Lyla. Dare she say she actually liked her now? Hard to tell. She shrugged once more. "I don't know Julie, I mean…I only see a little bit, but Stevie tells me they fight a lot. I don't like that. They shouldn't be fighting in front of the boys, that's the only time it becomes my business."

"I thought you might still want Tim," Julie said, reaching for her cup of coffee. She sipped it, peering over the top of the mug, her dark brown eyes mischevious. What was she playing at, Tyra wondered. "I mean…you guys seemed pretty good there for awhile."

"I'm not interested in Tim and if I was, I wouldn't want it to come at the expense of his heartbreak," she said, keeping her voice soft. She didn't want to talk about bad things in front of Henry. He looked around, his dark brown eyes wide, taking in everything in the backyard. She cocked her head. "You ever wonder what they think about when they process this stuff? I mean, Tim put one of the twins on the grass the other day and you'd thought it was the greatest thing in the world looking at her face."

"I wonder if it's like dogs in cars, all the senses coming to life or something," Julie said.

It was interesting. She sighed again, kissing the top of Henry's head and placed him in his little playpen beside the table, laying him on his back so he could look up at them, his tiny hands going and eyes focusing on the mobile. Julie flicked it on, the characters turning as it played a lullaby song. Tyra smiled down at him. Cute kid. She looked at Julie, who was watching her. "What?" This was the problem with visiting Julie. It always ended up in some sort of pseudo-shrink session.

Julie sipped her coffee again. "I don't know," she said, setting her arm on the table again. "This is just weird, you know? The three boys, you, Tim, Lyla, and the twins."

"The twins have names."

"Yeah, by the way, where did they come up with those?" Julie didn't even let her answer before she burst out into a laugh. "And how can Tim still walk after naming one of them Wilhelmina?"

She snorted. Yeah, that had been amusing. "Well you know, he named her when Lyla was sleeping."

"Obviously."

"They already had the birth certificate printed up so Lyla just signed it and she calls her Mila, like a mix of all the letters or something."

Julie's voice softened. "And Tim calls her Billie."

Tim did call her Billie. Wilhemina Elizabeth Riggins, called Mila by everyone and Billie by her father. It suited her though. It brought to mind someone who was old-fashioned, but very…aristocratic, Tyra thought. And yet Billie was tomboyish and Mila was sweet. At only eight weeks old, she was fairly certain Mila Riggins was all those things. "Yeah," she murmured. She glanced at the picture again. Mila had jet-black hair, but her twin had auburn strands capping her small head. "And Riley, on the other hand, has Mindy's name."

Lyla had wanted a romantic name and she claimed since Tim already put down Wilhelmina on the birth certificate, where he found that name, he still hadn't admitted, she said she got to pick and Riley was her favorite. So she was baptized the other day as Riley Melinda Riggins.

Julie shrugged, but spun her coffee mug around on the table, her voice soft. "I do like that they put in Mindy and Billy's names."

Yeah, she thought. She'd been pretty moved when Lyla had explained the names, the first time she'd gone to the hospital with Stevie. The twins were furious for about five minutes at not being able to go. Stevie was pissed he couldn't hold them, not until they came home from the hospital a few weeks after they were born. "I knew they were going to do it, but yeah, it seems pretty real when they finally came out," she said.

"Yeah." Julie spun the mug around again, finally stopping and smiling. "So what's going on with you? You come visit me and we haven't even discussed your sex life. Where is Landry?"

"I thought you'd know, being that Matt's his best friend."

"Matt doesn't talk to me about Landry, I think the last thing he said was there was some big concert thing he was playing at. He's all into his art now," Julie said. She propped her head on her chin, tapping her nails on the table. "So what about him? Landry?"

What about him? She shrugged. "I haven't talked to him in awhile, he's been busy being famous." They were playing a huge music festival which would be broadcasted on national television. Tons of celebrities, that sort of thing. They were getting up there. Not only had 'The Reaper's Lament' gone platinum, but another song between him and Devin, a duet about lost love with nothing but a fiddle and a guitar, had gone skyrocketing up the charts too.

"Maybe he'll win a Grammy," Julie said.

She snorted. "Hell will freeze over."

"I don't know, they're really good." She cleared her throat, arching her eyebrow. "What was that one song about? One of the new ones he sang at that concert thing in LA last month?"

"I don't know, he's got a few songs."

"No, not Reaper's Lament or that other one with Devin, Your Heart in Mine? It's another one. That one that's the whole band but it's that alternative beat thing going on with it." Julie knew what she was talking about. This was classic Julie. Keep bringing up leading things, hoping the other person would finally spill and explain everything.

She smiled, leaning over the playpen railing to check on Henry. "I know what you're doing. That song is about me, so stop it."

"I knew it."

"Of course you did and no, Landry and I are not getting back together. He's out of Dillon forever, he's living a life, and I am at home with my three nephews, working at prison for the state of Texas, and doing pretty well if I do say so myself." She sighed. It sounded pathetic and Julie knew it. So she fell backwards into the lawn chair, groaning. "Oh God! My ex-boyfriend is a famous musician and my backup ex-boyfriend is married to a fairy and raising two girls who are going to be the most beautiful people ever in existence. It's so not fair!"

"I told you it wasn't fair," Julie said. She rolled her eyes, peeking over at Henry. "I mean, when the Tims and Lylas of the world procreate, it just doesn't give much hope to the rest of us, you know?"

Yeah. The girls had incredibly delicate features. If they were as beautiful grown-up as they were as infants, Tyra was sure Tim would have them locked in a tower to keep from sending every man around them into orbit. "I'm not really talking about that," she said, forcing herself to sit up. She needed something stronger to drink.

Julie stood up and went into the loft, returning a second later. She poured a strong helping of whiskey into Tyra's coffee mug, leaving hers pure. "I'm still breastfeeding," she explained, sinking back down into her chair. She sighed, tapping her fingers on the edge of the armrests. "But I don't need it as much as you do right now."

She took a very long sip, setting the mug back down on the table. It burned her throat, but she didn't care. It made her feel alive. She blinked a few times, taking the phone and staring at the picture of everyone, save for her. It looked like an ad for the perfect blended family. Oxymoron. She dropped the phone down, almost at the same time it began to ring. "Shit," she cursed.

"Who is that? Cool ringtone. What is that? Some Star Wars thing?"

"Empire March," she explained. It was Lyla's ringtone. She put it to her ear. "Yeah Lyla, what?"

"I lost my phone. I think Gambit ate it."

"Not my problem Tim."

"Um, I kind of have an…an issue right now."

She rolled her eyes. "You have a lot of issues. I'm in Chicago, I mean, I know you ignore a lot of stuff, but I think I told you 100 times I would be in Chicago this weekend for a conference and I'd be visiting Matt, Julie, and Henry. What did you do?"

"Not so much what I'm doing as what I'm not doing, I can't do this Tyra!" His voice was really shrill. Tim was either deadpan serious and his voice deep as a result, or he sounded like a woman when he giggled or got really freaked out. He let out a panicked gasp. "There's a…a horse in my living room and…and a goat in my kitchen eating the trash and a sheepdog won't let me near my baby and my other baby is puking everything that goes into her and the twins are somewhere and Stevie is whining because I forgot to take him to get new cleats!"

"Tim where is your wife?" she asked, sipping her whiskey-coffee. Very calm. This was just par for the course with Riggins. She was curious about why Gambit wouldn't let him near one of the girls though, that was kind of funny. The sheepdog must have been in tune with his 'nanny' instincts.

"I don't know," Tim practically sobbed. He let out another shrill screech. "But I can't do this! I have five kids and four animals in this house!"

Okay, no joking, she thought, frowning. Julie cocked her head, mirroring the frown. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

Tyra shook her head. She had no idea. She cleared her throat. "Tim, if the dog ate your phone…why do you have Lyla's?"

"She left it."

"She left it? Where is she?"

"I don't know. I woke up this morning and she gave me the girls and said she had to get away, she was freaking out about something. I don't know where she is."

Okay, this wasn't funny anymore. I'm in Chicago, I can't start looking for her, she thought, biting her lower lip, her mind racing. She smacked her hand on the table. "Julie, your mom is in Dillon right now, right?"

Julie nodded. "She's doing that groundbreaking ceremony thing for the new guidance counselor building. Buddy Garrity conned her into it in the off chance he could convince her to give up six figures of salary at Braymore to take on being counselor again."

Buddy Garrity was cracked. "Okay, Tim I'm sending Mrs. Taylor."

"Oh thank God."

"Hold tight." She disconnected, while Julie got her phone out to call her mother. I need to do something, she thought, trying to think of where Lyla might be. Aha! She hit a phone number she couldn't believe she remembered, waiting and then launched into her question the second Jason Street answered. "Do you know where Lyla Garrity would go after leaving Tim with five kids and four animals?"

"Hello Tyra, it's good to hear from you."

"Answer the question Street. Tim's in a panic."

Jason sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Her eyes widened. "You know?"

"She's here with me."

"In New York!?"

"In Dillon, I'm visiting my parents for Easter. She's with Erin right now, it's a new mom thing, Tyra. She's…she's just in need of a second to calm down. Tim can handle it."

That's the thing Jason it certainly doesn't sound like. She sighed, rubbing at her forehead. "Mrs. Taylor is in town. She's going to the house I think to save Tim from himself. The dog won't let him near one of the girls."

"Yeah, apparently Gambit has taken to protecting Billie from everyone and everything that moves, it's kind of funny. Tim's being dramatic, the dog won't do anything to him or the kids." Gambit was a sheepdog. Sheepdogs guarded. He even sometimes herded the kids around the backyard. Tyra rubbed her forehead again, her voice soft. "Jason…" she trailed off. How could she say this without…oh hell, she didn't care. "Jason is Lyla going to leave Tim? Is that what this is?"

The sound Jason made was unreal. Laugh? Cry? Snort? She wasn't sure. "Leave Tim? Tyra, no, she's not leaving Tim. She's having a moment. She's…it's complicated, I can't even get into it right now, but let's just say Tim and Lyla haven't talked in over two years and now it's coming back to bite them both after a marriage, two kids, three nephews, a horse, a goat, a dog, and a rabbit."

There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear. She pushed to her feet, walking around the small patio, her arm over her stomach. What was he saying? "Are you talking divorce or something?" she demanded. It would kill Tim. Absolutely kill him.

Jason sighed. "Tyra," he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Look…I can't explain it to you, but when you become a parent…"

"I am a parent!" she snapped. I have three sons, she wanted to scream. I am their mother. I didn't want to be and I shouldn't be, but I am their mother and they are mine. She felt a surge of protection course through her. Mama Bear. I want to kill to protect them. She hissed into the phone. "Maybe you don't think so Jason, maybe it's different when you actually contributed to their existence, but I don't think it is. I think it's all the same and right now Lyla is panicking because maybe she's figured out she can't just give them back, but who the hell knows. Tell her Jason, for me, that if she thought she had a problem with me in high school, if she ever leaves Tim and takes those girls from him or dumps them with him, I will go to the end of the earth and I will drag her by her hair back to Dillon and she will have to deal with me and any wrath she thinks I had for her in the past, magnify it by infinity!"

She threw the phone down into the grass, so furious right now. Lyla…she would kill her. Absolutely kill her. Julie slowly walked over, holding her phone loosely in her hand. She cleared her throat, holding it up. "I called my mom, she said she'd go help Tim just this once, but I don't know what's going on with Lyla so I didn't tell her, but you know what she told me?" No, Tyra thought, lifting her eyes, silently questioning. Julie sighed. "She told me I'm lucky I have one kid and one husband and I can work from home, because it gets exponentially more difficult when you add more and more to the equation."

"Tell me about it," she mumbled, running her fingers through her hair, sending it askew. She was too far away to do anything, whether it was strangle Lyla or drown Tim or something. I want my boys, she thought briefly. She missed them. She walked back over to the table, sitting down and wondered what Jason meant by what he'd said about Tim and Lyla not talking. It was coming back to bite them, he said.

What did that mean? They talked. Sort of, she thought. They were sickeningly cute and at the same time they complimented each other. They had the twins' fourth birthday party and for about two hours they barely spoke to each other but knew exactly which way to move around each other. Unspoken. Tyra dropped her hand to the table, at the exact same time her phone went off with the regular ringtone. New York area code. She picked it back up, holding her finger up to Julie who was about to speak.

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Wow. She arched an eyebrow, almost to her hairline. She'd never heard Lyla talk like that before in her life. "Um, I'm just looking out for Tim, not that I need to explain myself to the woman who just ran off and left him with five children and four animals," she retorted, not missing a beat. Lyla was someone you always had to be on top of or else she'd get there first and run with it and you'd never be able to catch up.

"I didn't leave him Tyra and I don't need to explain myself to you, so maybe you can keep your judging to yourself, okay? Stay in Chicago and have fun with Matt, Julie, and their baby, my relationship with Tim is none of your concern and I for one dare you say the things you said to Jason to my face!" Lyla roared. The phone went silent for a moment and Tyra waited. Suddenly, her voice softened, back to sweet, quiet Lyla. The switch was terrifying. "Your sister died leaving behind three children, Tyra. She planned for that eventuality. Tim doesn't even acknowledge the fact that it might happen to him. Think about living with that, think about me for a brief moment and what I might be going through. Think about your sister." She hung up.

Julie waited and then cleared her throat. "So what's that about?"

She propped her chin on her hand, her brows furrowing to a point. What did they mean by that? Now she was confused. She glanced at her best friend, still wearing a deep frown on her face. Not even Julie would be able to explain this to her, like she had so many things before. She dropped her hand to the table, whispering, almost sounding it out like the twins learning to read. "Lyla said fuck."

"Wow. You really pissed her off." It took a lot to get Lyla to curse. Someone had to really send her over the edge. Julie cleared her throat, whispering. "But questioning her mothering skills would probably do that."

"I'm a mother too," she said, defensive. So many people seemed to forget that. She didn't give birth to them but they were her sons. Mindy thought she could do it, she named her in the will. A lump formed in the back of her throat. It continued to get larger as she spoke. "I mean…Jason said they didn't think or something. Didn't talk and it was biting them in the ass and…and Lyla said to think of Mindy I mean…I don't get it."

"Well maybe you just need to think on it," Julie whispered. She tapped the table and looked down at Henry before lifting her eyes again. "Tyra," she said. She cleared her throat, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder. "If there's one thing you're really bad at, it's you tend to jump to conclusions. Really fast. If you can't do something once, you immediately think you can never do it. Look at that from way back when and…and you know you've overcome a lot and…and you can do it." Her voice trembled slightly. "I think sometimes you can…you can just take one little thing and turn it into this big thing and…and you want things on your timetable and life just isn't like that and yes, you deserve to pretty much get things handed to you but you know life isn't…" she frowned again, shaking her head. "Look, I don't know what I'm really trying to say…"

"Clearly."

Julie scoffed, shaking her head. "Tyra I'm your best friend and what I guess I'm trying to say is actually cut Tim and Lyla some slack you know? It's hard for them and it's hard for you and all of you have been through more than you ever should for people your ages, I mean we all have, but we can't all end up on the good side of things every single time. Mindy and Billy get in a car accident and die, what are the chances of that? Tim and Lyla have a baby, lose it, go through pregnancy woes, and get pregnant with identical twins without ever trying for it. What are the chances? Stevie and the twins could have ended up with foster parents and stuff and they're living great lives and they're so happy and you're so good and we know the chances on that were 100% because it was you and Tim." Julie pushed her hand through her hair again, letting it fall into her lap. She shrugged, whispering. "What are the chances that maybe after an entire almost two years of all of this, Lyla cracked and Tim is in the process?"

When you put it that way…she closed her eyes, reaching to touch at her forehead. She understood it. She got it. It wasn't hard. She just…her hand fell down. A steely look overtook her and she stared Julie down. "I understand," she said, voice cool. Calm and collect. Old Tyra flew off the handle. New Tyra just faced it. She smirked. "But you know what Julie? I'm sick of people thinking that they can just lose their shit and I'm supposed to understand it and let them. Yet when I lose mine?" She snorted. That's when she was told she had to just face it. Deal Tyra, you'll get over it eventually. She smiled darkly. "I can't get one weekend to myself without Tim falling apart. He can lose his mind and Lyla can lose hers, but I can't get one weekend to just enjoy my friend."

Julie smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Yeah, but who was the one who called Jason and tried to track Lyla down? You should have just let Tim deal with it, the way he lets you deal with things."

I couldn't do that. Tim needed…she let the thought falter. Tim needed me, she finally finished, a few seconds later. She pressed her forehead to her hands, shaking her head. "He has a wife, why…why do I do this?" she murmured. She didn't expect a response, but Julie had one. Trust Julie to have one.

"Because you love him," Julie answered. She shrugged. "And not in the way like you want to tear off his clothes or anything like that, but you love Tim and you both share a life together. You love him, Tyra and he's hurting right now. You want to fix it for him." She shrugged again, her voice soft. "Maybe when you find someone to share your life with you won't feel the need to do it with Tim."

If only it were that easy. "I work in jail, it's not like it's easy pickings and…and the only guys I run into otherwise are…dads at the park and the football field." It was an excuse, she knew full well she'd be able to find someone if she put her mind to it. She just hadn't felt the need. The boys were her life right now and she didn't want to share it with anyone else just yet.

Julie shook her head. "Well just think about it as an option sometime soon, okay? You're pretty miserable."

"I'm not…" I am. I'm miserable. Tyra reached for her mug. I need more whiskey. She sipped it, still running through what Lyla said. What Jason said. What the hell were they both talking about?

For the rest of the weekend she tried to enjoy herself in Chicago. She hung around with Matt, Julie, and Henry, and she went to the spa to get her nails and hair done. She splurged on new shoes along Michigan Avenue and visited friends from grad school. Even had dinner with an old advisor. The following Monday, she flew back home and stopped at the prison to dump off her cards, notes, and paperwork from the conference, dodging people so she didn't have to actually talk about work just yet.

She drove to Tim's house to pick up the boys, parking behind Lyla's Jeep. At least it was there, she thought, climbing out of the car. She'd gotten a new one, her first new car in her entire life. As much as she was dying for a red Mustang, she had to get a practical 'mom car' and selected a Ford Escape. Damn Lyla for getting a Jeep, she wanted one, but she wasn't going to look like her twin. "Hey guys!" she called, knocking on the slightly open front door, stepping inside. Her voice dropped when Tim came flying around the corner, holding his finger to his lips. He had one baby strapped to his chest and the other in his arm, kind of draped over his shoulder. She hissed. "Sorry!"

"No problem, we just got them down."

"We?"

"We," Lyla said, walking around the corner, adjusting her blouse. She took the baby from Tim's arms, kissing the purple capped head. "Shh Riley," she cooed as the infant fussed slightly when she laid her into her chair. "Good girl."

Tim kept the other strapped to his chest, walking around the corner. "Boys are at the park with Angelo and his parents."

"How are Mark and Todd?"

"Good. I think they won't ever offer to take the kids for an hour though after this. The twins were being a little…difficult earlier." He didn't elaborate and Tyra didn't ask, following him outside and away from the house to a small clearing between some brush trees which had an awesome bluff-like view of the rest of the land. He glanced at Billie, who was sleeping like a rock against him.

"How is Mila?"

"Billie is fine," he said, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Tyra frowned; she looked so tiny in that baby sling on his chest. "Is she big enough for that thing?"

"Yup."

Guess he was going monosyllabic right now. She sighed, shoving her hands into her pockets. I want an answer. She'd been thinking about it off and on all weekend. It was still eating at her. Until suddenly, it wasn't. It went off like a lightbulb over her head, cliché as that was, probably for a reason. Oh my God, she thought, staring at Tim, cooing to little Billie, who wasn't moving against him. She turned and looked at the rest of the house. It was well kept. Toys were actually put away from the backyard, but the inside was kind of chaotic.

Oh my God, she repeated, turning to look at him. "You guys are Billy and Mindy," she murmured. It was so obvious to her now. Jason's comment about how it was all biting them in the ass. She narrowed her eyes. "Lyla wants a will."

"We're not dying anytime soon," he snapped.

"Yeah and Billy and Mindy didn't think so either," she retorted. She cocked her head. How silly was this? "What else are you guys arguing over? They argued over how best to pottytrain Stevie and whether or not to feed him wheat."

Tim gave her an even look, unmoving. He finally squinted. "We're fine, Tyra, we had a rough patch, she needed a break, it's common."

"So I'm told, but you guys really didn't discuss this? Lyla, who plans everything?"

"I think you know Tyra that most of our lives in the last couple of years, nothing's been planned. Whenever Lyla makes a spur of the moment decision it comes back to haunt her for a long time afterward. First spur of the moment thing she did in almost five years, she got pregnant and had a miscarriage. Second spur of the moment thing she did in almost five years, she married me." Tim shrugged. "We talked, Tyra, it's none of your business. We're fine now."

Fine. He was right. It wasn't any of her business. She sighed again, reaching her hand over to smooth it over Mila's head, which was wrapped in a yellow cap. "Her hair is red," she murmured. It was a lovely shade of auburn. Meant Riley would have the same color. "Who has red hair in the family?"

"Lyla's got some Scottish in there somewhere, that's probably where it's from."

She leaned against him slightly, her arm going around him. "Tim I love you, I just want to make sure you're okay, because if Lyla leaves, I'm still here and I need to know." She took another breath, looking out at the sunset. "And I understand now what Jason and Lyla meant this weekend."

"What was that? What'd they mean?"

Just that Lyla was corralling a Riggins. Just like Mindy. It wasn't like there was a handbook or instruction manual to follow with Tim or with Billy. You could only guess and hope you guessed right at that moment. They were spontaneous and refused to plan for some reason. They swung to incredible highs and lows, Tim more than Billy ever had, but she supposed it didn't matter. She felt an ache in her gut; if Mindy were still alive, she'd have something in common with Lyla. They'd be sister-in-laws, married to the Riggins boys, gossiping and dealing with them both, because Tim and Billy would be thick as thieves. She shrugged, answering his question. "I think it just means that Lyla's in a different situation than me right now."

"She wants a will, we fought about it," he said softly. He sighed, kissing Mila's head. He hugged her tighter, whispering. "I know the point of it, I get it, I really do, but…I don't like what it could mean."

I know, but it's one of those things that had to be done. Lyla had more reason than most to want a will in place. You just never knew when you could be driving home and get hit by a drunk driver, like Billy and Mindy. "I know," she murmured. She blinked a couple times, glancing at him. Her heart flipped. "Um, can I ask, just so I'm not surprised or anything…"

"You're guardian of the money," he said, smiling sideways. He shrugged. "You're in it as a guardian, if that makes you feel better, but we have Lyla's mom in there. And Buddy, of course. And then Lyla's brother."

"You want Buddy Junior raising your girls? He'll forget to feed them."

"That's why you're before him on the list," he chuckled. He smiled. "I'm not leaving anytime soon, so don't start thinking of renaming them or anything like that. Or converting them to your way of thinking."

"My way of thinking is always the right way."

"Doubtful." He smiled again, peering down at Billie. He reached in and slowly lifted her out. Tyra flinched; he was waking her up, Lyla wasn't going to be too thrilled later. Mila let out a little cry, her feet still curled up against her. He kissed her belly and then passed her to Tyra, who immediately placed her hand on Mila's head, cradling her. Damn, she was so little but she definitely didn't feel light. He touched Mila's head lightly with his fingers, letting his hand fall to his side. "She looks like Lyla."

Naw, I think she looks like you, she thought, kissing the top of Mila's head. She passed her back after a few minutes, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'm going to go home. I'll call Mark or Todd and tell them I'll pick up the boys."

"Okay."

She left him, going back into the house, where Lyla was writing dates on the labels of bottles of milk. "Hey," she said. She bit her lip. I hate this part. "Sorry."

Lyla shrugged. "It's okay. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"You're stressed, I didn't realize you'd have that in common with Mindy, you know? The Riggins thing."

"I thought it'd be like before, but…then I realize it wasn't easy before either," Lyla chuckled. She put the milk into the fridge, closing the door. She leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. She nodded to the fridge again. "You want a drink? I just fed them and there's enough milk for the night, so I'm good."

A drink might be nice. "I guess," she said.

"Cool. I'll get the glasses, go sit in the living room."

Yes ma'am, she thought, rolling her eyes. She went to the mantle, which had more photos scattered across it than before she left. Nice. She set a couple pictures back down after reviewing them and turned, taking her glass of wine from Lyla. She fell back into the couch cushions, sighing and closed her eyes. "Mind if I take a nap?" she murmured, feeling like she was about to drift off.

Lyla had already finished half her glass of wine. She set it aside. "Thank God, I'm going to sleep."

So much for girl's night, Tyra thought, falling to sleep on the couch as Lyla kicked back in the armchair.


	27. Differences Are Different

**A/N: **I'm not really sorry about the delay as I've been dealing with real life issues the past couple of weeks. The next chapter may also be significantly delayed. Thanks for your continued reviews and enjoy.

* * *

**_27. ...Differences Are Different  
_**

_Eight Months Later_

"Walk."

"Tim, stop ordering them around."

"I'm not ordering them around. Walk, damnit."

"So swearing at your daughters is going to help them walk faster? You're just encouraging self-consciousness and low self-esteem as they seek to please you for the rest of their lives, that doesn't create a future stripper," Tyra drawled, peering over Lyla's shoulder as she worked the sewing machine to put the finishing touches on Stevie's little championship jersey. She pointed to the needle. "How do I put that in?"

"It's already there in the machine," Lyla said. She lifted her head from the sewing machine, glaring at Tim, who was forcing Mina's hands onto the edge of the coffee table. She snapped her fingers, getting his attention. She pointed at him, her voice hard. "If she falls and cracks her head on that, you're sewing it up."

"You're the EMT," he shot back, referring to Lyla's latest hobby, which included getting her paramedic and EMT certification. When questioned why she'd chosen to do that, when she seemed quite content in her physical therapy career, she'd said it was almost necessary if she was to live with four Riggins boys and two Riggins girls, all of which were involved in some sort of daily scrape or cut.

"Well then you better learn quickly." Lyla put the needle back down into the jersey, reaching to check the spool of thread. Once it was secure, she put her foot down on the little pedal on the floor and the machine whirred to life. Seemed simple enough, Tyra thought, following the motions. Lyla finished with one of the numbers and then stood up, gesturing. "Your turn."

I can't believe my life has come to this, she thought, sitting at the sewing machine, which Lyla had set up at her desk in the corner of the living room. She set her hand down on the jersey, scowling at the stupid letters. Stevie had come running in crying yesterday because they got new jerseys for their Pee Wee championship game and his didn't have the letters sewn on. It was professional grade, but the uniform company had screwed up and thought the team would do it themselves. Since the game was tomorrow, she had to enlist Lyla to help sew up jerseys for most of his entire team. She knew Home Economics Garrity would have one and sure as shit she did. "Am I doing this right?" she asked, when the thread tangled up.

"Unspool it, you have a knot." Lyla showed her how to fix it and straightened up again, glaring at Tim as he got behind Billie, walking her acrossing the living room. " Riggins," she growled. "Leave her alone, she needs to sleep."

Tyra grinned, looking over at Tim, who seemed absolutely positive Billie would start walking soon. He'd been sure of this for a month and still the little girl showed no inclination of walking beyond holding her dad's hands while she did it. "Let her go," she said.

"Tyra, don't you start. I don't want them to walk yet."

"Why not?" Tim asked.

Lyla sighed, her eyes dropping and her voice softening. "Because then they'll run away from me."

I hear that, Tyra thought, taking on the symbolic implications of that statement. Stevie no longer wanted to hug her on the sidelines after a touchdown and glared at her if she dared come up to him when he was with a group of his friends. He just turned seven. It was insane. Two years since Billy and Mindy died. Everyone was getting so old so fast. She peeked around the side of the sewing machine where Tim was desperately trying to get Billie to walk. She cleared her throat, nodding towards Billie's twin. Riley had yanked herself up onto the edge of the coffee table and was slowly walking the edge. "Look at that," she murmured.

Unlike Tim, who was on the floor with a net to catch Billie, Lyla knelt down and just watched her other daughter. They were identical, so as far as Tyra knew, maybe this was Billie. The joke was only Tim could know the difference. Lyla said that you could see it in their eyes. Riley was quiet and soulful. Billie was just loud. Lyla reached her hand out slowly from between her crouched knees. It was about a foot between Riley and her. Tyra felt her heart pound in her chest, stopping the movements of the sewing machine; it didn't matter, her thread was going into another letter and it was all askew. She looked up at the front door opening, holding her finger to the twins, who were just coming in from the bus from kindergarten.

They both stopped in their tracks, watching as Tim was oblivious to Riley, who took two very careful steps from the coffee table, her arms outstretched. Billie let out a pissed off yell when Tim nudged her with one hand and let go of her other, sending her falling face forward. She rolled onto her butt and began to cry. It didn't deter Riley, who took another step and let go, standing completely on her own. "Oh my God," Tyra murmured. This was better than the twins. Both of them just were crawling and then suddenly were taking off across the kitchen, she barely saw them.

This was so cool, she thought, grinning and clapping her hands together as Riley took two steps on her own, laughing and falling into Lyla's arms. "AH!" Lyla yelled, throwing her into the air and spinning around. "You walked!"

Tim whipped around, falling onto his back as Billie took another tumble. "What!?"

"You missed it, Pageant Mom," she said.

"I missed it!?" he almost howled.

Lyla lifted up her phone, which she'd set on the corner of the sewing machine to record the moment. She gave him an apologetic look, but Tyra saw the dark gleam in her eyes. "Sorry about that."

"Cool she can walk!" Ricky shouted, running in. "I want to watch!"

"Me too!" Nicky chimed.

And now watch Billie, Tyra thought, leaning back, the sewing completely forgotten. She watched carefully as Tim dropped Billie to the ground and everyone watched Riley take a few more careful steps before plopping onto her butt. Not to be outdone, with the camera phone rolling, Billie didn't just walk, but took about ten fast-paced steps before falling on her face, where she pushed herself up again and took off, laughing before falling down again. All in all, she was behind her sister about five minutes.

Competition was healthy amongst siblings, Tyra believed, watching as her twins began to fight over their various 'homework' assignments which consisted of spelling various words. They claimed they could do it 'better' than the other. "No one is better spelling the word dog than anyone else," she said.

"What are you doing?" Ricky asked, changing the subject.

"Sewing."

"You can't do that."

Well no, I can't, she thought. She glanced at him, shrugging. "Why can't I?"

"Because Daddy can."

She cocked her head, frowning. "Daddy can sew?"

"Yup," Ricky said, chiming in with Nicky's nods. He held up his coat, pointing to a button which was sewn on with different colored thread. "He did this one."

Tyra inspected the button. It was sewn tight back to his jacket, but yeah, the black button with red thread. Go figure. She narrowed her eyes, lifting her head to Tim, who had lifted Riley off the ground and was ignoring their conversation. "He can sew?"

"He can sew," Lyla said proudly, walking in with Billie. She kissed the little girl's auburn head. "He sewed her sleeper zipper back on after she ripped it, right my little Mila?" She cocked her head. I must look like I'm losing my mind, Tyra thought, still staring at Tim. What the hell? She thought she knew him. "He knows how to sew. He always has. I don't know where he picked it up, but I know how he got better."

"How?" A very dark look crossed Lyla's face and Tyra closed her mouth. Lyla got that look when it was referencing something in Tim's past he didn't even bring up. Prison. It must have been one of his jobs or something and he learned there. She knew from Mindy he'd done something with laundry, because he'd made a comment how he refused to do it himself ever again if he could help it, he'd had enough of that 'in there.' Tyra waved her hand, shrugging slightly. She didn't like bringing it up either. "Never mind."

Lyla cleared her throat, setting Billie back on the ground, shaking her head in slight despair as Billie dragged herself to her feet and took a few steps before falling backwards onto the carpet, giggling. "My children are leaving me."

"They're not leaving you if I can ever help it," Tim said, sitting at the sewing machine, Riley clawing around his knees. He looked up when Tyra made a move to get out her cell phone to take a picture. "Do it and die Collette."

"The world must know."

"Shut up." He lifted Riley, setting her on his knees as he sewed, quickly making his way through various jerseys and throwing them aside once he was done. While he worked, the little Cinderella he was, she went to the kitchen with Lyla, who had Mila under one arm and was assembling their early afternoon snack.

"Need help?"

"There's a bottle of wine I need help with."

Thank God. She pulled it from the fridge, taking two glasses out of the open-fronted cabinets, which Tim had finally installed. "This house is coming along," she said, surveying the kitchen, which had undergone the most renovations in the last few months. The cabinets were in, the countertops were no longer hard plastic but dark granite, and the faucet fixtures were stainless steel to match the appliances. "What else is there to do?"

"An addition," Lyla said.

Tyra closed her eyes. No, no, no, no…she opened one. "Please no."

"Don't worry." Lyla took a very pointed long sip of her wine, letting out a satisfactory smack of her lips. She smiled, looking down at Mila. "I'm not having any more. That shop is closed, we have five. We don't need more." She shifted Mila in her arms, kissing the baby's fat belly, much to Mila's happy giggles. She grinned, looking over at her and shrugging, her eyes sad. "It's not happening again anyway."

Five kids was enough for this house, she agreed. She tilted the glass towards her, studying the bottom of it before lifting it to her lips. She glanced at Mila, who was biting at her sock. "That's a Riggins kid right there."

"She's going to be a gymnast." Lyla sighed, kissing Mila's soft hair. "Or a cat burglar."

"The Riggins kids didn't turn out all crazy. Or crazy at all, when you think about it."

"That's due to you and Tim," she said, smiling and hoisted Mila further on her hip. She glanced out the window, her voice even softer. "And Billy and Mindy."

I think it's more what they started and Tim and I just carried on, she thought, peeking around the corner to compose herself a bit. She didn't get teary anymore at the thought of Mindy. Or really even sad. It had been two years. That felt like a lifetime ago when she was getting that phone call and working thorugh those few weeks. Throwing herself at Tim and refusing to take part in being a mom and just…just all the drama that unfolded those following months. Leaving to go to Chicago…Landry…Tim and Lyla Part 1,000…there were so many chapters. It could make a book, she thought. She checked on Tim. "You coming along in there?"

Tim made a rude gesture with his hand, which Riley promptly imitated. Not before it went seen by Lyla, who dropped her wine glass. "Excuse me?" she snapped. She pointed to him. "You're unteaching her that right now."

"No I'm not, it's always useful to know. Right Riley?"

Riley giggled and threw her hands in the air, babbling in baby speak. Lyla rolled her eyes, mumbling and cleaning up the empty wine bottle. "They're going to be repeating that in church this weekend, I know it."

Tyra couldn't get over that, it was funny to her. Tim and Lyla were so different and yet they parented almost oppositely and it worked. Tim thought organized religion was a bit of a joke; he had his own way of being spiritual and Tyra knew it, but he wans't going to force himself to go somewhere for it. Lyla wasn't the Jesus Freak she'd been in high school that one year, but she went every Sunday and made sure the boys said their prayers before nighttime. Tyra was contemplating taking up Buddhism. It was appealing. Mostly she didn't believe in anything.

I wonder what that makes me, she thought idly. I'm not strictly atheist but…hell, she couldn't wrap her mind around someone supposedly so benevolent to take away the parents of three little boys. She finished her glass of wine; fully believing the lightning strike would come at any time. "Where's Stevie?" she asked, changing her thoughts.

"Where is he?" Tim echoed. "He's yours today."

"He's ours always."

Lyla tapped the calendar, which neither of them were keeping as up to date anymore, probably why they didn't know where he was. "He's got a playdate thing with Angelo, he said he'd ride his bike."

"After he dumped these on us," Tim said.

"Little brat," Tyra said lovingly. She glanced out the window at the same time, smiling. "Speak of the devil and…oh my God!" She flew out the front door and ran for Stevie, who was sniffling and walking his bike to the stairs. "Baby! What's wrong, what happened?" She reached gingerly for his arm, which was bent awkwardly, hissing. Oh shit…she lifted her head at the same moment Tim and Lyla appeared, Lyla already with her black EMT bag. Thank God for the medical training, she thought, kissing Stevie's wet and dirty face. "Tell me," she whispered. "What happened?"

"I was coming home," he cried, offering his bent arm to Lyla for inspection. "And…and I thought I could do it myself…"

It suddenly occurred to Tyra and to Tim that Stevie was alone and must have ridden his bike pretty far on his own from where Angelo lived in town. She wanted to strangle Mark and Todd, what the hell were they thinking letting Stevie do that himself? "Where were Angelo's parents?" she demanded.

Stevie ducked his head. Uh-oh. "Um…they…they didn't know."

Oh my God. I bet they were freaking out. Tim was already pulling out his cell phone to call them. She imagined Mark and Todd were just as panicked. "Why?" she sighed, although she knew Stevie would never give her a good enough answer because honestly there wasn't one.

"I am big, I can do it," he said, rather strongly. He sniffed again and Tyra peered down into his dark, wavering eyes, noticing he also had a few scrapes on his chin and his hands.

Lyla looked at them both, as Tim returned from the phone call. "They're calling off the search, they're freaking out and super sorry," Tim said. He looked down at Stevie. He was never the really strong one, but he had something Tami once told her worked far more than any sort of fear or intimidating punishment. He just was disappointed and she knew Stevie was eating himself up for doing it. "What do you think Garrity?" he asked, turning his focus to Lyla. Stevie hung his head.

While she wrapped him up and helped him to the car, she heard Lyla said it was most likely a broken wrist. Oh no, she thought, closing her eyes and sitting in the backseat with him as Tim walked around to the front seat and Lyla went over to dab at his hands with antiseptic. "They'll clean him up in the ER," she said, explaining what to tell them when they got there. "But yeah, see you in a few hours."

A few hours and a couple hundred bucks later they were in the car, Stevie eating ice cream, but incredibly dejected at the doctor's news he wouldn't be able to play in the championship game, obviously. He had his wrist in a soft cast instead of hard plaster, since it was just a hairline fracture. She turned in the passenger seat, her heart finally settling back into its normal rhythm. "Stevie I guess you learned your lesson," she said.

"I guess."

"No you did," Tim said from the driver's side, looking into the rearview mirror. "You're not going to be able to play football."

Don't do that, she thought, glaring sideways. Don't make this about football. This was nothing compared to that. "Tim," she murmured.

"You're not going to ride your bike that far again, okay? Not until you're much older and maybe not even then, it's a really long way," Tim continued. He dropped his voice, softer this time instead of stern. "And you'll have to wait until next year to play."

"I love football."

"I know you do."

She was still upset he had to do that to Stevie. It was clear he loved football but seriously? Why do that? Why upset him that much? They got him inside, the twins all over to check out his cast and the bandages on his chin and hands. Lyla gave him a Children's Tylenol when he complained of pain and took him upstairs for bed. She waited until the twins went with them to hear about the ER, Stevie a complete celebrity for them. Then she turned on Tim, punching him. "What the hell? You are not one of those dads. You're not your dad!"

"What do you know of my dad?" he snapped.

"Enough." Absolutely shit nothing, because he never told her.

Tim glared at her; alright, low blow. He pointed a finger upstairs, hissing. "I am not my dad. My dad would have made me walk to the ER Tyra. Would have been more upset about losing out on the championship Pee Wee game than anything else. I am not my dad. That's his favorite thing in the world right? Right?"

"Right!" Geez, stop getting in my face.

"He knows he messed up, okay? I'm not going to rub it in, but he knows he can't play football as a direct result of this, so I don't think he's going to be too keen on riding his bike long distances and lying to adults about it again, okay?" Tim sighed, raking his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, his shoulders falling. "Shit I'm tired."

Hell, me too. She walked over to the couch, falling beside him. She placed her hand on his forearm, whispering. "What do you want to do now?" she whispered.

He looked up at the ceiling and shrugged. "I have to tell you something."

Hmm…I can't do this right now. I need to get going. "The twins have school, they're with me this week."

"Let them stay here the night, it's been crazy."

Fine. We can't do this all the time though, we can't get them off schedule. She knew he knew, so she didn't repeat it. She sighed again. "What do you want to tell me?"

He sighed again, his eyes closing and murmuring. "Lyla's moving to California. Going back to school full time."

What!? She turned her head quickly. "Excuse me?" I don't know if I heard right. He wasn't drunk.

He opened his eyes, turning on the couch to face her fully, his head pillowed in the fluffy cushions. He seemed sad, but resigned to it all. "She's got a job at Stanford. She's going to get some new…certification thing. She's gonna' work on kids with paralyzed injuries or something…then maybe she'll go back to Africa, but that's a long way off."

And how is Lyla going to raise two children and be married to someone in Texas? Her heart jumped. This was insane. "Where are you going?" she breathed.

He closed his eyes tight. "I'm staying."

"Jesus Tim. Divorce?"

"No, just…separation. Not like that though. Just…the girls are going with her. She'll be with her mom." His breath hitched in his throat. "Part of why I just…wanted them to walk and talk you know? I can't miss it." He looked sideways again, his heart positively crushed. She could see it. "I can't be that guy Tyra. I need them."

"Then tell Lyla she can't go."

"We talked about it. It's not something she's doing on her own…I pushed her a bit. I want her to do this. To go out there, she didn't ask for this."

No but she signed up for it. She married you. She had your kids. She got into this and she didn't have to get into it and she couldn't use the death of Mindy and Billy as an excuse, Tyra thought. She looked up as Lyla walked down the stairs. "Bitch," she said, but there was no heat behind it.

Lyla dropped her hand to her side, hurt. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What about the boys? Let alone your girls."

It didn't matter and Tyra knew it. The decision was made and it wasn't hers. I just hate being the last one to always know, she thought, still glaring at Lyla because it just made it all easier. "I'm sorry," she repeated. She looked at Tim, shaking her head. "This is something we…we worked on a lot. For a very long time. Months. Almost a year, Tyra. So don't do this to us." Her voice dropped, pitiful and pleading. "Don't make it worse."

I won't make it worse, but…seriously!? You guys couldn't get this all figured out before? She shook her head, falling backwards into the couch again, while Lyla took up a seat beside Tim, who took her hand, squeezing hard. "I don't know what to make of you guys," she murmured.

Tim pushed himself to his feet, mumbling something about checking upstairs. She waited silently, feeling Lyla move closer to her. It took a second, before Lyla whispered. "I'll need you to watch him…I know you don't do that anymore, but if you could just be there for him, I'd appreciate it."

What if he just…she bit her lower lip. She wasn't sure it would ever happen, but… "It's just for a couple years," she whispered, glancing at Lyla. She shrugged. "What if he goes with you?"

"He offered, but…his heart is here."

"His heart is with his girls," Tyra said.

"And with his boys," Lyla said, tears dripping down her cheeks. She hiccupped. "They're not his nephews anymore Tyra. They haven't been for either of you in some time. They're your sons and today he proved that more than anything with how he handled Stevie. He was scared but at the same time he was able to discipline him and help him I mean…you think two years ago Tim would have been able to balance all those emotions so well? Do you think you would have?"

Probably not. I'd probably have just freaked out and made it worse. I don't know. It was two years ago. I was a different person back then. "Maybe not," she conceded.

"We'll see how this goes. The girls are coming with me and I'm coming back, I mean…it's not like I'm never returning, I'm coming back here as much as possible. I just…need to do this, please." Lyla hiccupped again, whispering. "And you're my friend and I need you to understand."

Friends. They were friends, weren't they? She looked sideways again, shrugging and whispering. "I guess."

"Thank you."

They sat together in silence for several more minutes until Tyra shook her head again. "I'm never going to have a boyfriend again am I? Not with you and Riggins constantly making me work around here." She was trying to lighten the mood. It sort of worked, Lyla giving her a small smile. She tried to smile back, but couldn't either. It wasn't really something to smile about.

Let's just deal, it's the only thing we know how to do, she thought, pushing herself to her feet to go check on Stevie.


	28. There's No Slowing Down Now

**_28. ...There's No Slowing Down Now_**

I'm drooling and I don't care. She sniffed al ittle into her pillow, completely ignoring the fact that there was something breathing hot air into her face. She slept with a dog in the bed more than a man, it was fine, she'd accepted it. Although Gambit didn't jump up and down at the end like a pogo stick. One eye opened, confirming it was Gambit breathing in her face, the sheepdog's head pushing hers off the pillow. She shoved him aside and turned, just in time to see Ears looking at her, his triangle nose wiggling and his little mouth moving. There was a carrot beside him.

Interesting, Tyra thought, closing her eyes again. "Who is that?" she mumbled into the pillow. It was Saturday, right? She wasn't waking up this early on a Saturday unless someone was bleeding or had a bone poking through their skin.

"It's Monday."

What? She opened an eye again, making contact with the alarm clock. Which was blaring flashing 12:00. She sprang up, sending the rabbit hopping off the bed and onto the floor, away from Gambit, who suddenly sat up with her, looking around. He woofed, lunging for Stevie, who was positioned at the end of ther bed. "It's Monday!?"

"Power went out," Stevie explained, as she flung back the covers and stepped over the side of the bed. He winced. "Nicky's there."

Nicky let out a yelp as she stepped on him, kicking his feet at her foot, which she withdrew. "Hey! I'm here!" he yelled.

"Clearly," she snapped. She pushed him out of the way with her foot, wondering where his twin was. She grabbed the alarm clock, yanking it from the wall. Stupid piece of shit. She knew she should have gotten one that retained the time when the power went out. So it was Monday, but what time? She grabbed her phone. "Ah! We're late!"

"It's Job Day," Stevie said. He frowned at Nicky, who was stumbling out of his sleeping bag and tripping. He looked up at her, super serious. She had to get this kid a sense of humor. "We have to talk about jobs."

"Why?" she asked. You have to talk about jobs? Why would they force that on you so early in your lives, you're just babies, she felt like saying, but in reality they weren't. She sighed. Nicky and Ricky were about to turn six, it was horrifying to her; they were still little to her. "Why now?"

"Because it's Job Day," he repeated, insistent.

Nicky picked his nose, flicking the booger at Ricky, who appeared in the doorway. Ricky let out a yell and punched him, both of them tackling each other into the mess of blankets on the other side of her bed. She supposed Ricky must have slept there too. Ugh. "Where is your rabbit?" Let's get an inventory of pets.

"In the hall."

"Go get him and put him back. Gambit, leave Oscar alone!" She shooed the sheepdog from Oscar, who was huddled in the corner of her room chewing on a dog toy. She grabbed it from the goat, who bayed and ran out of her room. Stupid thing. What was he doing in the house anyway? "Where is your grandpa?" she asked, walking down the hallway as Stevie, who was fully dressed, led the way.

"At Dad's house."

That's right. Which meant she had to drop Oscar back off there to be with his best buddy Thor. She ran her hand through her hair, doing a quick inventory of breakfast. She didn't go shopping yesterday. She grabbed a box of probably okay Pop-Tarts, throwing them onto three plates. "Here."

"Yuck, I hate strawberry," Ricky said.

"That's the best, stupid."

"Shut up stupid."

"Both of you shut up," Tyra ordered. I cannot deal with this right now. I have an hour to get you all to school. I need help, she silently begged, grabbing her phone from the counter. It was attached to her arm most days. She punched in a number, listening to it ring, her eyes closed as the kids squabbled over who got which flavor of Pop-Tart.

A sleepy voice answered a second later. "Lo'?"

"I need you to get Nicky and Ricky to school."

"Hmm…" Tim groaned. She could hear rustling in the background. He yawned. "Wish I could Collette but I'm not in Texas. Remember?"

Oh holy hell. She closed her eyes. Come on Tyra, what did you do tie one down last night? Why couldn't she remember anything this morning? She dumped a container of coffee into the pot, slamming her hand on the power button. At least that was working, as it began to chug. She ran up the stairs, jerking clothes from the twins's dressers. "That's right," she sighed. Shit. She'd have to just break traffic laws this morning. Well, she did that most days so it wasn't that big of a moral dilemma. Hey, she thought, her eyes lighting up. While she had him on the phone… "Do you think you could call the school and give a presentation on how you blow things up for a living for Stevie's Job Day?"

"Probably not."

"Why not? You're their dad Tim, you have to do it," she said. He didn't have to do shit and he knew it, but it would make her life so much easier, because, as she was now reading in her calendar, she had a big meeting with the warden on case progress reports for several of her inmates. Damnit.

Tim snorted and she heard his voice get muffled. "I wish I could, but I'm in California."

After a moment of talking to him about how Buddy was still feeding Thor (to her knowledge) and the rest of the animals and the kids were in good spirits, she disconnected, her phone thudding softly on the counter as she placed it down. She nibbled her lower lip. The past few months had been a complete eye-opener for her. She also was starting to see what Tim had gone through as she'd gone back to Chicago to finish up her degree.

It was seriously the job of an army, to get the boys ready and off to school. Stevie often was daydreaming and not paying attention, the twins were just in various states of chaos as it were, and when you added on friends and assignments and extracurricular activities, it became a mess of moving parts. She'd thought Tim had it easy, while she was in school. Now she was seeing it first hand. It certainly wasn't easy when she had him around to pick up extra slack, but this…full time? At least once in a blue moon she got a break before.

She bit her lip again, pushing away from the counter, barking to Stevie to pick up his crayons. The damn things were smashed into her carpet. Tyra ran upstairs and into her bathroom to at least try to get ready, hurriedly smoothing makeup onto her face. "This is ridiculous," she mumbled. What was she supposed to wear to a Job Day thing?

It was a no brainer she'd go to that. Stevie had enough problems with the kids still occasionally getting on him for his less than nuclear family situation. The least she could do was be there for him on Job Day and not have it be a thing that his parents couldn't show up. Besides, she thought, smiling and glancing out the bathroom door to a picture of her and Mindy sitting on the nightstand. Mindy was in one of her stripper getups, making a face at the camera. "At least I work in a prison and not a strip club," she said. Not that Mindy cared what people thought of her.

Speaking of prison…she grabbed her phone, calling in to her boss. "I'm going to be late," she said, lying through her teeth. "Kid stuff."

"Tyra, seriously? This is a meeting with the warden."

"Call Kathy his secretary and tell her to reschedule I'm sure he's got better things to do, I can come in after noon, I promise." She knew this was asking a lot, but honestly? They owed her. She brought it up as much too. "Come on Marcus, I haven't asked you guys for anything in the last six months." Marcus, her boss, knew she'd gotten the kids fulltime six months ago. She continued, insistent. "I've never asked for special favors. This is the one day, the one time, please."

Come on, she silently thought, throw a single mom a bone here Marcus. Please…as much as I hate, hate, hate, asking for favors. She'd rather eat glass most days. She closed her eyes, listening to him breathing. Please, please…

"Well…okay fine, I'll talk to her."

YES! "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated. Once Marcus had enough of her thanking him, she threw the phone back down, just in time for it to ring again. Huh. She glanced at it. California. Rolling her eyes, she answered. "Tim, I'll have you know I have this under control, I've been working at it for six months now and we've been doing this for almost three years."

"I just wanted to tell you to remember I'm coming home in a few weeks for the twins's birthday," Tim said. He paused. "Are you going to talk about just you at this thing?"

"Well I will be there, won't I?" She knew what he was talking about. Much like she had worried during her time in Chicago after the 'guardianship' went into effect, she knew he was worried about the boys forgetting him or feeling abandoned. They had gone through a hell of a lot the past three years, she knew he felt strange about it all.

It took him only eight weeks, she knew it wouldn't take long, before he was going to California to be with Lyla. Tyra had no idea why Lyla continually skipped from career path to career path; honestly, I can do so much with that brain, she thought, her psychologist's mind going into a state of excitement at the challenge. In the end, Tim went to be with her and she was in the same position he was in three years ago. Only this time it's for a much longer time period, she thought, sighing.

I still don't know how we do this. She cleared her throat. "I'll tell Stevie to mention you, okay?"

"Okay." Tim paused and sighed. "I really miss them."

What should she say? Ugh. So she settled for the standard. "I know." I really don't know if we have time for this, but…hell. I'll do it, she thought, falling back against the sink ledge, looking at her toes. She could hear the boys fighting over who got how much money for lunch out of her purse. She frowned slightly when she heard Nicky say he needed '$100.' I don't even know if I've ever had that denomination in my bag for longer than ten minutes, she thought. She rubbed her forehead. "You think this is all a good idea Tim? I mean…they seem okay with it, but…just when we were all getting into that routine of one week one week and your kids now in the mix and all…you move away and we're back to just one parent."

"Now you know what I went through. Only I had them as babies."

They're still babies, she thought, her heard longing for the days when the twins would just cuddle up to her and sleep with their head on her shoulder. They were four now. They hated being in her arms for longer than a few minutes, too excited to get into things and explore. She was glad for it. The Riggins kids were basically drunk adults only they were smaller and cuter. It was the sign of a creative and happy child, Tami told her, when she grew concerned that Nicky's obsession with wearing a cape and trying to talk in code went on longer than his previous obsession with being an airplane. "They still are," she muttered, although she didn't believe it.

"At least we get to see them as both."

Yeah. Babies and kids and one day adults. Ugh. I don't want that day to come just yet. She glanced at the clock. The minute had had moved far closer to the eight than it needed to have moved. "Tim I'm really late."

"Are you pregnant?"

"Shut up asshole."

He giggled. "You'd have to have a boyfriend."

Oh shut up, she thought, but laughed instead. She missed him around. Wonder if this was how he felt when I was in Chicago. Their roles had reversed a bit. "I don't think this is quite what Billy and Mindy had in mind when they named us their parents," she said.

He sobered up a bit. "Well they had something in mind, but yeah…I know what you mean." He cleared his throat. "I'll be home in a few weeks. I'll see you then. Make sure they're all around for the computer thing tonight. And tell them about my job, make sure Stevie does that. Oh and Ricky wanted me to make him a new bed, so I'm working on that, I'll ship it out when I'm done. Damnit and Nicky needs to get work boots, he wants to be a farmer."

"It's not Halloween yet. That's not for another year."

"Well he says he wants to be a farmer, I'm just letting him figure it out."

Thankfully they'd agreed their parenting style would be to basically let the kids be like what Tami told her. Happy and creative children. Even if they got weird looks in the grocery store when Ricky wore a Batman costume for three days or Stevie wanted his hair in a Mohawk. They knew where to draw the line. Maybe that's why they named us the guardians, Tyra thought off-hand. Billy and Mindy would have done the same thing.

She disconnected, changing quickly into some resemblance of appropriate clothing for an elementary school. Working a prison had forced her to buy shirts with higher necklines than she liked. "Come on!" she shouted, pushing kids towards the door. "We're late!"

They somehow made it across town to the preschool, where she dumped the twins and she miraculously located a parking spot near the front of the elementary school. "Where is your class again?" she asked, hurrying through with Stevie after having to sign him in late, much to his displeasure. She'd make it up to him.

"Right here," Stevie said, walking in. He set his backpack down. "Sorry I'm late Mrs. Wilson. My mom broke her alarm clock."

Little brat, I did not. "Power went out," she said, trying to smile at Stevie's teacher, who must not have been a morning person. She cleared her throat and went over to sit with Angelo's dad Mark. "Hey," she said, smiling sideways at him. "Guess Angelo wanted the brain surgeon to talk instead of the chef, huh?"

Mark chuckled. "Doing brain surgery is a bit cooler to the kid than making food, I agree, but no, Todd had to go to a conference so it's just me. Guess it's Stevie first, huh?"

Tyra turned her attention to the front of the class, smiling wide when Stevie went to the front and put up his posterboard with the assistance of Mrs. Wilson. She clapped lightly, unsure what to do as he pointed to the drawings he'd done and the photos he'd cut out and glued to the board. I don't remember him making this, she thought, listening in, her legs crossed and her high heel bouncing off her toes.

"This is my job board," Stevie said, pointing to one of the columns. "My mom is Tyra Collette. She works in jail." He tapped a picture of a cartoon character wearing a chain gang outfit. He smiled wide. "She's helps bad people be good." That was pretty much it, she agreed, grinning at him. He pointed to her in the back of the class. "That's my mom Aunt Tyra." He nodded. "Say something."

Well that was direct. Stevie was nothing but that, so she shouldn't be surprised. She stood up, feeling on the spot in front of about twenty six and seven-year olds who were all staring at her expectedly. "Um…" She shrugged, unsure. "I work in a prison." She smiled a little. "That's where people who do bad things and break the law go. You don't get toys or to play outside all the time. They have to bring your food to you in your cell. It's like being ground all the time for years!"

A few kids' eyes got big. Mrs. Wilson gave her a warning look. Whatever. They were old enough. Stevie pointed to her. "She's the shrink."

"I'm the psychologist," she corrected. Damn Tim for always calling her that in front of them. She tapped her temple. Was this how you explained it to them? Oh well, she had somehow muddled through explaining where babies came from with the twins while Lyla was pregnant. Surely she could muddle this. "It means that up here, I help people."

"Like a doctor?" a little girl asked.

She nodded. "Sort of. I don't fix boo boos on the outside. I fix them inside. In your mind. I help people…" she trailed off, looking at Stevie, who was picking at a bandaid on his hand. Bored. Great. She sighed, shrugging and smiling. "I was a kid who didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. Some of you do. I…I help people with bad problems. People who are in a bad place who got in a lot of trouble. I hope I don't have to work with any of you because that means you are good and you follow the rules. Does everyone follow the rules?" She got half yes's, some blatant no's and a few questionable shrugs. She chuckled, gesturing her hand to Stevie. "Keep going kid."

Stevie smiled, pointing at her again. "That's my mom." He pointed to another picture. "That's my other mom…she died. She was a dancer. Her name was Mindy." He moved along. "My first dad died too and he was a football coach. He coached the East Dillon Lions and his name was Billy, but this is my other dad, Uncle Tim. My dad blows up stuff." He paused, shaking his head. "But he's not a bad guy."

One kid moved on the edge of his seat, waving his hand. "What's that mean?"

"He blows up stuff like buildings that don't work anymore," Stevie explained. He grinned, pointing to a picture of Tim standing amongst rubble, covered in soot. "This is him on the job. He lives in California now. I think that's a state but he says its not."

Mrs. Wilson cleared her throat as some of the other parents chuckled. "Stevie, move along."

"Oh, okay. So yeah, this is the rest of my board. This is what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a doctor." He paused. "But I want to play football too. Maybe in college. My dad says I can do that."

I didn't know that, she thought. Something flipped in her heart. Oh no, she thought to herself, nibbling on her lip. She raised her hand, her voice quiet when Stevie looked at her, addressing her silently. "Why do you want to be a doctor Steven?" she asked. It was her shrink voice, the voice she used with the prisoners. It got more answers out. Like Mrs. Taylor's voice.

Stevie shuffled his feet. Don't do that because it's me asking, she silently conveyed, hoping he'd hear it. Do it because if you don't answer, the teacher is still going to ask you. He ducked his head; a very Tim-like move to make, she thought, smiling slightly at that. He still didn't answer, suddenly clamming up, until Mrs. Wilson cleared her throat. "Why do you want to be a doctor when you grow up?" she asked.

Stevie finally lifted his head, his hands tight on the piece of paper in his hand. He shrugged, his voice quiet. "Because doctors save people and I want to save people and help them. I can help everybody."

There's more to it, she thought, biting her lower lip. I don't know what it is, but there is more to it. She made eye contact with Mrs. Wilson, who seemed to sense it too. To her surprise, which she pulled back into her seat, Elliott was standing in the doorway, listening to Stevie. Huh, she thought, smiling a little at Stevie's former teacher, who returned the smile. Interesting. He was gunning to be the teacher for the twins next year. Maybe he wanted to talk to her about that. She tore her gaze from Elliott to Stevie, who was talking again about her jail job. "My favorite thing is Daddy's though," he concluded. He grinned, showing the class a large hunk of concrete. "This is from when he let me push the button to blow it up."

"And we're done," she mumbled as Mark laughed beside her and Mrs. Wilson stepped in to ask if anyone had questions for Stevie.

One of the little girls in the back raised her hand. Marcie, Tyra remembered. Stevie's crush. He immediately flushed. It was adorable. "What's your daddy do again?" she asked.

"Blows stuff up."

"The other one."

Tyra glanced at Stevie. The other one. That's what Billy had become, she thought sadly. It was hard, to constantly keep two people the kids never remembered alive. Stevie thought for a second. He could do this, she thought. He could pull it together, he was strong. Strong little Stevie. Stevie smiled. "He coached. He was a coach, like I said. This is his." He picked up a baseball hat from the table and plopped it on his head, grinning. It was Billy's, Tyra thought with a surprise gasp. Where the hell did he get that!?

She reached into her pocket, her fingers closing around her phone. I can't call him now. Tim. That was the only answer. She stood up, applauding with everyone as Stevie took his board and went back to his desk, still wearing the East Dillon cap. She walked over when Mrs. Wilson called for a bathroom break while the next student set everything up. I need to talk to him, she thought, making a quick move, but was prevented when Elliott pressed his hand to her shoulder, stopping her. "Let him go," he said.

She scowled. Who the hell was he? "Don't touch me."

He let go immediately, but smiled. His boyish face annoyed her. Kind of reminded her of Landry, but taller and bigger. Older. There were more lines around his eyes. He was early thirties. She was barely 30. They were nothing alike. Her gaze immediately dropped from his. Jesus Tyra. This isn't school. Well…it was, but…damnit. She immediately scowled deeper, frustrated with her thoughts. Elliott smiled briefly. "I'm sorry about that, but…let him go Tyra. He doesn't need to explain it right now, he's a kid."

I know he's a kid. "He's my kid," she whispered, standing in the back of an elementary school classroom, hissing like there were deep dark secrets about to be shared. She frowned a little more. "He's my kid and something's hurting him."

Elliott shook his head. "He'll be okay. Talk to him outside of school. School is the safe place. Isn't that what you teach in your counseling sessions?"

Yes. Sort of. Safe zones. Safe places. "That's like inside your head," she said, smiling a little. He knew psychology jargon. That was something. She tossed her hair out of her eyes, smiling again. "I need to get back to work. Think he'll be okay if I sneak out?"

"Wells ay goodbye," Elliott teased. He smiled again. "It's good seeing you."

"Good seeing you too." Tyra rolled her eyes upwards as Elliott walked out of the classroom and down the hall. She frowned slightly. Wait…she stepped into the hall, calling out, a thought in her head. "Hey, Elliott?"

The teacher turned, his hands in his pockets, waiting on her. A bunch of kids chirped his name as they walked past and he smiled at them, asking how they were. She cocked her head, waiting a moment for him to call back to her. "Yeah?"

Huh. She bit her lip and then shrugged, rolling her eyes, pretending like it was nothing. "Do you have time to talk later? Maybe you want to drop by the prison during naptime?"

"Well naptime is only twenty minutes and I'm thinking it takes a bit longer than that for the body search," Elliott said. He wiggled his eyebrows.

She grinned. "Dirty. In school, no less."

"Dinner this weekend?"

"I have three kids," she immediately said.

Ellitot shrugged, walking backwards. "Bring them with you."

Bring them with me? What…she frowned. Wow. No one but Landry had suggested that…wow. She lifted her eyebrows, finally asking the question in the back of he rhead. "Did you come to see Stevie or me?" He shrugged, smiled, and turned around, walking back down the hallway in silence. Well that answers my question, she thought, laughing. She turned around, in time now to see Stevie walking towards her. Thoughts of dating went out of her mind. "Hey baby! You were so good up there, you should consider public speaking as your job when you grow up." She wrapped her arms around him tight, hugging and kissing his head as he hugged back. "Don't ever grow up."

"I'll be Peter Pan," he giggled.

"That sounds good," she laughed, quickly giving him another kiss before he wised up to the fact they were in school and his peers were surrounding them. She turned, patting his shoulder and leaned down, whispering, just between them. "Love you. Have fun." We can talk later, she silently added. Elliott was right though. It wouldn't be good for Stevie to bring this up now. Or really anytime soon, she thought, letting go of him and falling back into the class as Angelo went to the front of the class, pointing to the back of the room.

"That's my dad Mark and he's a doctor, but that's not that cool because my other dad Todd is a chef and he made us these!" Angelo grabbed a container from the desk and opened them up revealing what Tyra observed were cupcakes that had chocolate icing and gummy worms.

"Well I'm not cool now," Mark mumbled, chuckling as he took out a fake brain from his briefcase. He held it up, showing it to Angelo, who seemed torn between discussing the career path which was cool enough. But Tyra figured gross would win out because he was a seven-year old boy. Which it did, as he grabbed the fake brain and ran back up to the head of the class.

She waited until Angelo finished, said goodbye to Stevie again and made her way back to work, with an extra little pop in her step, cliché as it was. It felt good. Really good. Where was the other shoe dropping, she wondered. It seemed too good to be true.

That night, after dinner and the boys finished with their talk with Tim, she took the laptop to her room. "Is this the sexy dance time or something?" he asked. "You start showing me what Mindy taught you?"

"Shut up, I can your see wife in the background." She set the laptop on the pouf in front of her chair, leaning over her knees. This was their 'parent conversation' at the end of every chat, much like they'd done when she'd been the one on the other side of the computer screen in another state. The kids seemed a bit more…bothered by Tim's absence than hers. More scattered, but I think they missed him more, they knew him more than they did her at the time. They were older.

Tim knew it too, but she usually didn't leave the room with the computer. He leaned on whatever he was sitting at, probably the dining room table. "What's up?" he asked. He cocked his head, frowning a little. "This about Ricky only speaking Spanish?"

She frowned. "Where'd he learn Spanish?"

"Nevermind."

Moving on. "Two things, I wanted to talk to you about…" she trailed off, sighing. She shrugged. Get it out Tyra. Tim had to know. "Um, first thing…" She raked her hand through her hair, blowing out a hard breath, shaking her head. Say it. "I think I'm going to go on a date with Elliott Cole." She waited, Tim blinking at her. She couldn't really get over the fact his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. California seemed to be encroaching on him. She shrugged again, more obvious this time. Did he know who that was or had he already forgotten? "Stevie's teacher?"

"Not Landry?"

She rolled her eyes. "Landry's on tour. Landry's out of Dillon." And I'm here. It no longer bothered her to the extent it once had. She'd maintained her friendships. Had some new ones through Stevie and the boys, with their various playdates and things. It was hard. Julie was her only real contact to the world beyond Dillon and she was okay with that too.

It's funny how far I've come, she thought, lifting her eyes back to the screen. Tim too. She saw in the background a little hand. He glanced down at it and placed it away. "Not now, Daddy's talk to Tyra."

"Me!"

"No, me."

She smiled a little. "Let's talk about our kids now," she said, steering him to the story she planned to tell. She pushed her hand through her hair again. "I think Stevie is still dealing with some things…I got something from his little talk today…he wants to be a doctor. Says he wants to save people…help people…" she trailed off. As she spoke, she felt something in her mind kind of flicker. Something…something…his book, the artwork…the 'dreams' as Lyla called them…she tapped the computer screen. "Hey…remember Stevie's book?"

"I don't look in it."

"Yeah, no I know, I mean…I only saw a few things, but he did that a lot. He drew pictures of…of Billy and Mindy and put the doctor sign on it…" she frowned deeper. Oh God. Oh God…oh God…I'm an idiot. She shoved her face into her hands. Oh man. I know why. I know…she closed her eyes tight, forcing the tears back. Don't cry Tyra, not now. "He wants to save them. Help them."

Tim cocked his head again, skeptical. "Billy and Mindy?" He didn't say Billy's name often. It cracked a bit. "What are you talking about? It's been like three years Tyra."

"It's only been two," she snapped.

"More like two and a half."

Okay fine, she'd give him the half a year. "It doesn't really matter, Tim. This is a trauma that is going to last his entire life, all we can do is make him as happy as possible but there are lifelong repercussions of losing a parent young! This is one of them." She saw Lyla move in the background, snapping her fingers. "Hey, hey…Garrity! Come here!"

A moment later, Lyla moved into the picture, curious. She was never in on the conversations. She talked to the boys in the beginning and left, giving them the 'parenting' time. "What's up?"

"Why did you go into all your helping people and shit? All your physical therapy stuff?" She narrowed her eyes, another thought popping in. "And are you finally done changing career paths? You're harder to nail down than Tim when it comes to doing laundry."

"I don't do laundry."

"Obviously," Lyla and Tyra said at once. Lyla shrugged. "I guess…I wanted to help people? I don't know Tyra, this is a weird question. Jason got hurt and I guess I just…"

"Ah!" She snapped her fingers again. Tim rolled his eyes, knowing he'd been had. "Right there Riggins! Look at me, huh? Changed my life because of one thing that happened to someone I didn't even know that well. Trauma and big things change and Stevie had one of the worst things people could have happen to them. Anyways…" she trailed off. It wasn't that big of a deal. It was just something they still needed to watch out for. The ever rearing head of that awful night two and a half years ago. She wiped at her eyes quickly. She never tried to pity herself or them anymore. It happened. Move on, just like everyone told her and as much as she could. "Tim he was just so…I can't explain it. I wish you were there."

"I'm sorry," he automatically said.

Don't be sorry, just be here. She shrugged again. "Whatever. Anyways…those are the things I wanted to tell you. Stevie's got things still in his little mind about the car accident and I'm probably going on a date with an elementary school teacher." She flashed another smile. "At least that's something, huh?"

On the computer screen, she could see the little mischievous look in Tim's eyes. He seemed older to her more often than naught now. Except when he got up to something. Then he was the same old Tim she knew from high school. She squinted. What? He smiled; it pulled over his teeth and he let out a little giggle, a sound she heard so much now. Oddly enough, she hadn't started hearing it until after the funeral. Because of the boys. It was ironic. A death took Tim to laugh again. "You," he finally said, when she sat silently, demanding an answer. He snorted. "You're not even 30 Tyra and you're acting like an old lady! Go on a date with the dude, come on! Who cares if he's not some musician? You wanted me after all."

She arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I did not want you."

"Yes you did. Everyone does. It's okay to admit it."

"You're an ass."

He grinned, sticking his tongue out and laughing. "And you love me."

"Shut up." Yes I do, I love you you son of a bitch. She smiled again. "Get back to Texas so I can kick your ass."

"Tell your new boyfriend that I have a test for him."

"You do not vet my boyfriends for me."

"Yes I do, you just haven't had one since we started living together."

"Do I have to constantly put up with this?" she demanded. She arched her eyebrows, laughing. "No, I don't, I'm hanging up on you. Tell your wife goodbye and her new dye job is awful in this light."

"Yeah I'll do that and be murdered in my sleep." Tim received a slap upside the head and gave her a pointed look. "See?"

Tyra chuckled. This was fun, but the clock said itw as almost bedtime. "Bedtime."

"Later. Love you."

"Bye. Love you too." She disconnected and set aside the computer, leaning back in the chair. Silence. Just silence, she thought, closing her eyes and drawing her arms around herself. She smiled a little, swearing she heard Mindy somewhere in her mind. They were eating ice cream in front of the TV, bitching about men. Funny, felt like yesterday. It made her think of Julie. I need to call her. See how it was going with Henry.

The door to her bedroom creaked open. She sighed, feeling a wet nose on her ankle. "Gambit, go away." A little giggle filtered through. She laughed, opening her eyes and let out a squeal as Ricky pressed his nose to her ankle again. "Oh my God! What are you doing?" she laughed, grabbing him under his arms as he tried to escape. She wiped off his nose with a Kleenex. "Did you dip it in cold water?"

"Ice cube," he said, holding up a melting ice cube. He stuck it to her nose and she shivered. "Like a puppy dog."

"Are you the puppy dog?"

"Yup." He touched the ice cube to his nose and then dropped it on the floor. "Get it Gambit!" The dog was actually in her bedroom and sniffed it up. She wondered where the rabbit was. Ricky was reading her thoughts. "Ears is in his bed. It's nighttime."

Yes, it as. She stood up, throwing him into the air and almost threw her back out in the process. "Yes it is bedtime." She carried him into his room, where Nicky already was situated in bed, flicking through a book. That was new. She cleared her throat. "Do you want me to read to you?"

"I want to read it." Her eyes widened. Okay then. That was a surprise. Nicky climbed out of bed. "But I'm gonna' brush my teeth."

Well shit. I am Mother of the Year. She laughed, watching him and Ricky go brush their teeth. They squabbled a bit, but otherwise were okay. She got them to bed and sank onto the floor between their twin beds, listening to him read Dr. Seuss out loud. Pretty good, for a four-year old, she thought. He finished and she read them a couple more books until they were asleep. She set them up with their stuffed animals and nightlight, putting a couple cups of water on their nightstands. Once theyw ere settled, she went back downstairs. "Alright Steven, let's get going."

"But I want to finish this," he whined. There was some movie on TV.

"Nope. Bedtime."

Stevie made a face. "Ugh." He trudged around, making a big mess of it all. Tyra patiently waited on him and finally got him to his room. Now that they were alone, she sat on the edge of his bed, quietly looking at him. He didn't say a word. Until finally, he whispered. "I liked today."

Today was rather fun. Different, but we all need that sometimes. She smiled a little, touching her hand to his heart. "Yeah. It was fun."

"Thank you for talking."

"Thank you for inviting me," she whispered. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair. Sweet little boy. She smiled again, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. My son. "I love you."

"I love you too. Night night Mommy." Stevie rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, drifting away to sleep. Tyra waited a few more minutes, watching him. It was when they were at their most vulnerable. Their youngest. She finally tore herself away and stood up, doing the same in his room as she did the twins. Except this time she took Stevie's blue book and flicked through the pages, finding the one she was looking for, the picture she remembered seeing. Billy and Mindy and a doctor. He'd written 'All Better' on the bottom.

Damnit, she thought, setting the book down. She made a move to leave, but as she set the book down, she knocked over a box. A card fell out from between the tissue paper and she knelt, picking it up. Stevie's room was a packrat's and hoarder's dream. She kept meaning to get with him to clean it from top to bottom but unfortunately life got in the way and it only managed to maintain some semblance of order once a week when he went to Tim's. Now that they were all here permanently it was permanently a disaster.

The card was simple, a Christmas one. Christmas? Geez, we really did need to go through this mess, she thought. She flicked it open, reading the chicken scratch. _This was your dad's hat. Thought you might want it. Go Lions. Uncle Coach._

So Tim didn't give him the hat. She smiled. Who knows where Coach got his hands on it, but…wow. She closed the card and pressed it to her chest, looking up at the ceiling and closed her eyes. After a moment she let go and carried it into her room, setting the card in her nightstand. She made a move to close the drawer, pausing before she slipped her fingers in and removed a CD. She twisted it around on her finger a moment before she carried it to the laptop.

I'm going to regret this, she thought, slipping it into the drive. It took a second to spool up, since it was old. She clicked play on the video clip and leaned back in the chair, pulling a blanket over her. Gambit wandered over. She ruffled his furry ears. "Where's Oscar, huh?" Almost on cue, she heard the goat baying from his pen in the laundry room. Good. She felt Gambit jump onto the pouf and propped her head on her hand, watching as the video began, playing Mindy and Billy's wedding. Instead of crying thought, she smiled. It was good to remember. It was really all she had, other than what she remembered in her head, but…it just wasn't the same.

By the time it was over, she was pretty much asleep. She closed the lid of the laptop and pulled the blanket over her head, not moving from her spot in the chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her alarm clock was still flashing. She'd forgotten to change it. She smiled, falling asleep. Oh well. She'd change it back tomorrow.


	29. There's a New Age Coming

**A/N**: This chapter is super long because I shoved a ton of stuff into it to quickly finish the fic. There is one more chapter left, an Epilogue. Thanks for the ride and enjoy :)

* * *

_**29. ...There's a New Age Coming**_

**_Two Years Later_**

"And then what do I do?"

"Garrity I could get the cops to look at you for child abuse with this."

Lyla carefully moved the clamp holding one end of the thread she was using to sew shut his hand, which Tim was trying not to look at, but it was a bit of a train wreck. Stevie peered over her shoulder, pushing up at his new glasses with his finger, watching in awe as she stitched him up from a bit of a mishap with cutting wood in the backyard. "There we go," she exclaimed. "All done!"

He opened one eye, stunned to see that his hand didn't look any worse for the wear. He smirked at Lyla. "Good to see your one month of medical school paid off."

"I didn't learn this in medical school, I learned how to stich people up by living with you," she said, placing a gauze patch over the stitches. She passed the tape to Stevie. "Here you go, tape him up."

Seriously? Stevie's eyes widened and he saw a little bit of glee lighten him up, his fingers grabbing for the tape. He arched an eyebrow. "Garrity he's eight."

"And I'm good at it too," Stevie chirped. He slapped tape over his wrist, laughing. "That was fun, I'm doing it again." Tim flinched when he pressed a little too hard on the area that required the three little stitches. Lyla wasn't a doctor or a seasoned pro, so he was sure he'd have a scar. Of course, he wouldn't tell her that. It was nice to have a wife who knew her way around advanced first aid. Even if she was pursuing her final career change in the area of occupational therapy, specifically children with neurological disabilities. Lyla and her soft spots, he thought, dropping a kiss to her head.

"What's that for?" she asked, tilting her head up while she cleaned up the mess.

He kissed her quickly on the mouth. "Just because."

"Well I like just because," she giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. She brushed her nose to his, whispering against his mouth so Stevie couldn't hear. "Did you hear about Tyra and Elliott?"

"Hmm…no, what?"

Lyla pulled back, her voice rising, back to normal. "Well then I'm not telling."

His eyes widened. Hear what? He was the last to hear anything. Mostly because he didn't care. He squinted, trying to read her face, but she'd shut down. Damnit. Guess he'd have to go to the source. He waited until she was gone before he snatched his phone and called the source of any information or gossip that ran through the branches of the family tree. He dialed the number and waited. Ugh. She wasn't picking up. "Becks," he barked into the phone. "Where are you? Call me back." He knew the abruptness of the message would garner him a return call soon.

On the other hand, he'd also ask some of the little ears. He went out onto the porch, where the twins were actually sitting and doing homework, shocker. They were more like him than he cared to admit with their attitude towards school. Stevie was running plays with Angelo out back, both of them chattering about how they were going to be Panthers one day. He sized up Angelo, shaking his head a little. "Damn."

"What damn?" Ricky asked. He poked his eraser into his eye, groaning. "Ugh! I hate school." He slammed his forehead onto the table. "Ow." He giggled, sitting up, a post-it stuck to his head. Nicky giggled and did the same. They both sat back up again and did it again, knocking their heads on the table and seeing what else they could pick up.

My God these could be my sons, Tim thought, rolling his eyes at them. "Stop it," he said, taking a seat at the table with them. He tapped a finger on the homework folder. Tyra would kill him if he sent them to school without doing homework. She always knew, because of the damn homework folder. He took the papers they were working on. He frowned at the first question. "Give an example of a word problem for 20-13 equals 7." He flicked the paper down, staring at Nicky, as it was his handwriting. Nicky just smiled. He glanced at the messy handwriting, reading pointedly. "Nicky had twenty girlfriends. He broke up with thirteen. Now he has seven girlfriends."

"Well I do."

"Dude, you're six, you don't have a girlfriend."

"I do too."

Tim shook his head. It was technically correct. He chuckled. "You're a player."

"Momma says I'm like you." Nicky looked at Ricky and made a face. "I can read better than you."

"No you can't."

"Yes I can. I'm goodest at it."

Ricky snorted, grabbing his reading assignment. "Newsflash," he said, smirking. "That ain't a word."

"Neither is ain't," Tim said, effectively shutting both of them up. They were hanging around Tyra too much. Ricky had taken to saying 'newsflash' before just about everything he said. He popped them both on the head with the homework folder. "Get to it." Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his daughters approach him. In a moment he'd be able to tell which one. He wasn't happy about it, but they were identical after all. They just had odd personalities.

The little carrot-top passed him a few dandelions and then stuck out her little brown riding boot. She sniffed. "Dirty."

Ah, so this was his little Riley Roo. Billie could roll in mud and not care. Riley got a speck of dirt on her skin and freaked out. He lifted her up, kissing her head. "I'm sorry baby," he said. "We'll shine those right up." He held her on his hip. Shit she was getting heavy. He hated that everyone was growing up. Meant he was getting older. Hell, he had a 30th birthday coming up in September. Gross, he thought, wrinkling his nose at Riley. "Daddy's old," he complained to her.

She patted his cheek. "I love you," she said so seriously for being two-years old. Riley mimicked. Billie was often silent. He wondered if she'd had problems; made Tyra test her. Tyra came back saying sometimes kids chose not to speak. They just didn't have anything to say.

"Well that's good," he sighed, carrying her into the house after making sure the twins were still working and Stevie was still playing. He had to run with Stevie later that evening; there was a big game coming up. Pop Warner championship, his team was still in it. He glanced at Lyla, who had Billie on her hip and was talking on the phone. He heard her say something like 'lunch' and 'plans.' As he was going up the stairs, he heard her drawl something he didn't like hearing.

"Don't worry about Tim, I'll handle him if he gives you trouble."

What the hell? I don't give anyone trouble, he thought, sniffing. He was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. Damn. He glanced at Riley, who was pulling at the thread of his flannel shirt. "You're going to have to deal with the dirty boots," he advised her.

She wrinkled her nose and pouted, crossing her tiny arms over her chest. "No!"

"Tough luck kid."

"No!"

"Tell it to child services," he said, dropping a kiss on top of her head. He swung open the door, frowning at two people he was surprised to see. One was Coach Taylor, he wasn't expecting him for a couple more days. It was his yearly interview he did for the head coach job, just so he didn't offend Buddy by telling them all to go to hell every single year. The other was… "Landry!"

"Reaper!" Nicky bellowed, running into the room and sliding in on his knees, slamming on an air guitar. His hair was down to his shoulders and flew around his face as he banged his head. "I love that song!"

Coach arched his eyebrows, amused. "Wow."

"I know, I have to live with it."

"Eeee!" Riley shrieked, her hands out for Coach Taylor. She had an obsession with him. The last time he'd visited she'd sobbed the minute he stopped holding her. Tim was surprised the two-year old actually remembered him, but maybe it was his voice. Tami had said something about kids remembering voices before they remembered faces.

The look on Coach's face instantly melted. "Well hello there sweetheart, come to Uncle Eric."

"Dirty," Riley said, pointing at her boot.

"Well that's no good now is it? Come on sweetheart, let's get you new boots." Coach turned to look at him, smiling crookedly. "Nice life you got here Riggins." He said that all the time. Tim felt something akin to a flush warm on his face. He hated it when Coach brought attention to this sort of thing, so he just coughed and nodded. Let it go, he felt like saying, but he never did.

Right now he wanted to know what Landry the superstar was doing in his foyer. He closed the door, hearing Billie sing when Coach entered the room. The twins had different schedules. She was just getting up from naptime while Riley was about to fall off to sleep. Nicky and Ricky were like that too as babies, he thought idly. Weird. He just wanted it over with. They were in a fun age range now where they were engaging. He wanted the girl twins to get their too, especially because he had them all the time and not just half of a month like he did his boys. "What's up?" he asked Landry, turning around in time to see Ricky running in, laughing at something and holding up the toy guitar he'd received as a birthday gift the year before from Landry. "Put that down, you'll poke your eye out."

"No I won't." Ricky held it up, running around the coffee table. "Show me how to play Lance!"

"Um, it's Landry," Landry said, but Ricky hadn't heard it. He'd tripped and fallen face first onto the guitar, holding his eye and howling. He shook his head. "You should really listen to your elders."

Tim rolled his eyes. It was a common occurrence, them not listening to him. "Go to Lyla," he advised, leaning to check the eye which looked totally fine. Nicky was howling his ass off from the couch. He snapped his fingers. "You! Get your rabbit and take the goat on the walk. The horse gets his apples so go help your brother with those once his eye is put back in his socket and don't get me started on the pig!" He looked at Landry, who was just amused. He shrugged. "We have a pig now."

"I don't want to ask how that happened."

"Tyra went to the vet and there was a pig for adoption."

"Again, I don't want to ask how that happened."

It was a long story, but Bacon was there to stay. He wanted to get rid of him. Pigs freaked him out unless they were on your breakfast plate. It was Lyla who had fallen in love with the thing and insisted they keep him. Tyra concurred, they ganged up on him and now there was a pig in the Riggins Ranch of Wayward Creatures. He didn't like it when Tyra and Lyla conspired. It never ended well for him. The boys were beginning to figure it out as well. Stevie had needed a project on maps or something for one of his first school year assignments that year. He'd suggested, and Stevie agreed, they just print something off the Internet and do it. Tyra and Lyla put their little heads together and he spent the entire weekend the Panthers were supposed to be playing Arnett Mead at Arnett Mead, Rivalry Week and all, making a map of the US out of cookies and frosting.

He led Landry into the kitchen, where Lyla was just getting off the phone. "Hey," he said. He jerked his thumb to the visitor. "Coach is with the girls. This one came along too."

Lyla was inspecting Ricky's eye. She passed him a bag of peas. "Enjoy." Her smile brightened. "Landry! So good to see you! What are you doing here?" She gave him a genuine hug and smile, still beaming. What was it with Landry and the opposite sex, Tim wondered. He had a magnet on him or something. She barely glanced at him. "Tyra's on her way. Be nice."

What? "I'm always nice." I don't like this. First that conversation on the phone with what he now believed to be Tyra, saying something about how she'd handle him and don't worry about him or whatever. Now this warning? Ugh. He rolled his eyes, pulling two beers from the fridge, taking one for himself and handing Landry one.

Lyla barely glanced at him. "I don't get one?"

Ugh. "You're insufferable!" he groaned, but only teasing. It was something Stevie had heard a kid say at school and repeated nonstop. Now it was his turn. He set a beer in front of her and watched her crack the cap. It forced his lip up into a quirk as he lifted his drink to his lips. "You're good at that."

"I'm good at many things," Lyla said. She smiled again at Landry, who was just rolling his eyes. "So what brings a famous person to our humble abode? Did you see the kids yet?"

"I saw a couple of them." Landry turned his head right when Stevie wandered into the kitchen with Angelo. He held his fist out. "What's up little man? Heard you're playing really well. Your aunt tells me you're going to the championships this year."

Stevie's eyes lit up. "Landry! Yeah, we're awesome. Me and Angelo are a tag team."

Angelo played defense, they weren't tag anything together, Tim thought, but said nothing, just smiled a little. It was another thing Stevie tended to repeat. He was at an age, Tyra just said. Let him go with it. It wasn't hurting anyone. He backed out of the room to let Lyla and Landry talk, Stevie and Angelo immediately growing bored with grownup conversation. He went upstairs and into the girls' room, surprised to see Coach sitting in the rocker with Billie. "Hey," he said, his voice soft. He checked on Riley, who was asleep in her toddler bed. He smiled a little, gesturing to the toddler, a little embarrassed. "You don't have to do that."

Eric shrugged. "I don't mind. I miss my girls this young, but I'll never admit it to anyone else. Henry isn't even this much fun, he's four now." He growled, shaking his head. "Can't believe I have a grandson that can talk to me now."

"Well it's nice when they talk, that one sure doesn't, right Billie?" he asked. He waited, as Billie just kept her mouth shut, her eyes rotating to meet his gaze. He walked over and Coach carefully lifted her up so he could take her. He loved his daughters, but it continually amazed him how Billie never spoke. The twins chattered until their hearts were content. Stevie was a bit of a talker. Riley couldn't shut up for the life of her. Billie was just…quiet. He wondered what side of that was him or Lyla. Could be both. "What are you thinking about?" he asked her.

Billie picked up his finger and lifted it to her mouth, trying to chew on his wedding band. Coach chuckled. "Shiny." Tim smiled, saying nothing. He let Billie play with the ring, staring off into space. He glanced at Coach, who was watching him. What, he wondered. He shrugged, silently asking the question of his former coach and constant watcher. Eric pushed himself to his feet out of the rocker. "Nothing Tim. Just proud of you, like I say and you don't want to hear."

"Yeah," he mumbled, looking away. He felt the need to defend himself. "I just did…what I had to do."

"No, you went beyond what you had to do. You became their father," Eric said, keeping his voice down to not disturb Riley or even Billie, who was looking up at them, watching. Eric smiled again. "Tim I didn't know what to think five years ago when they died, I really didn't. We got that phone call from Buddy and…" he sighed, shaking his head, closing his eyes at the reliving of it. "And I just didn't know what we'd find when we got here…I think Tami expected what she got with Tyra but you?" He snorted, chuckling. "You're one of the most unpredictably predictable people I've ever known Tim. I'm thinking you're bent over a keg drowning in your sorrows or trying to party it away but…I wasn't expecting you to be as calm as you were. You were numb, yes, but…but you did what your brother wanted you to do. You grew up and you cared for those boys like they weren't just family but like they came from you. I see them now and…see this…" he trailed off again, shaking his head. "You did good Tim. The boys are happy and you're happy and…and you're all one big family when it seemed like you were three different ones in the beginning."

Yeah, we kind of had to work it out. He looked over at Billie, who was staring over his shoulder out the door. He sighed, finally turning to Coach. I hate these talks. They always make me feel on the spot. "Thanks," he said, stumped for an answer. He flushed again, mumbling. "Just did it I guess…Tyra did most of it."

"Maybe so but you guys worked it out. It works for you, right? The boys going with her and all now and then?"

"Gives us space, we're not the same people." He sighed, thinking to those early days when they lived together. He had no idea how she hadn't killed him in his sleep. Or how they hadn't slept together again out of misery and shared pain. He swallowed hard. Something was going on with her. "I think Tyra…" he trailed off, frowning again. It would be about time. It would work, he just…hadn't allowed himself to think of it. He frowned deeper. "I think Tyra and Elliott might be getting engaged or something…seems serious."

Eric shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, rocking back in the chair. "And if it was serious? If they were? What then Tim?"

What then? Well they'd get married. It was a no brainer. He shrugged. It didn't bother him, it was just…he lifted his eyes, his voice soft. "It'll all be over then Coach. Tyra gets married? That's it. We're both grown up." He smiled briefly. Well, not really. His eyes twinkled. "Or at least, some people might think we are."

"Well you're never going to have the maturity level of anyone your age," Coach teased. He looked around the room, shrugging again. "This is your life now Tim and I'm incredibly proud of you. You took more than any kid could deal with. You were 24 and you became a father to three boys. You're not even thirty and you have five kids, Tim."

I know, he thought, lifting his eyes again to Coach. He looked down at his daughter, who was fiddling with the collar of his flannel shirt. She liked how it felt, her fingers rubbing at the corner, enamored. He gave her his phone, which she immediately clutched, her eyes wide on the bright screen and fingers zooming around on it. He sighed again. Tyra getting married. He swallowed hard. "Tyra gets married and Mindy's not here."

"I know. Billy wasn't here for yours."

No, but we went to see him. They could go see Mindy, on Tyra's wedding day. He shook his head, snorting. "She's marrying a cross-country runner. No football."

"Elliott's nice."

"He is." He'd gotten a job at the middle school, teaching English. Seemed right up Tyra's alley. He made her happy. That's what counted. Tyra deserved happy more than anyone he knew. "I just want her happy," he murmured.

Eric didn't say anything to that, leaning back in the rocker. He looked around the room, waving at the ceiling. "What's all that dark paint up there?"

"Stars," he said.

"Stars?"

Tim flicked off the lights and stood up from leaning against the dresser, walking over to the windows, where he closed the shutters, plunging the room into darkness. The ceiling lit up, covered in stars and planets. He smiled. It was silly, but…he shrugged again, blowing it off to Coach. "Jason had these on his ceiling when we were growing up. When I'd sleep over I always thought it was so cool, but…never could put them in my room…couldn't get up there to do it myself so…I always liked them."

"And you wanted your kids to have them," Eric finished.

He nodded. He felt a little embarrassed, admitting something so personal, so he shook his head and mumbled again. "The twins and Stevie have them too, it's not a big deal."

"No, of course not."

Good. So long as we're clear. He carried Billie out of the room, coming down the stairs at the same time the front door opened, Tyra walking in, followed by Elliott. "We have presents," he said, practically throwing a suitcase into the next room as three little boys were screaming around him, jumping on the suitcase to rip it apart. He shuddered, peeking into the room. "Did they just growl?"

"They're spoiled," Tyra said, explaining the feral behavior the boys had whenever gifts were around. They had to get them out of it, Tim thought. Although he supposed it was nice they were spoiled. Tyra and him tended to go overboard, giving the kids things they could only ever dream of at the boys' age. She reached for him, or so he thought, but took Billie. "Hey baby girl, give Auntie Tyra a kiss."

Billie let out a cry, reaching back for him. "Did the crazy lady scare you?" Tim cooed, smiling devilishly at Tyra, who rolled her eyes. "It must be the blonde hair."

"It's my natural color."

"I wouldn't know," Tim said. He shrugged at Elliott's frown. "Haven't seen it in a long time. It's probably gray now." He stood on his toes, peeking down at her roots. "Yup, steel gray."

"Asshole."

He smirked, trying to get Billie to stop from shoving her head into his neck. "You got a second? We need to talk." He hoped she knew what he was talking about. Which she seemed to get, because her smile fell and a nervous look crossed over her face. She nodded, saying nothing, but set her purse aside and twisted her rings on her fingers, walking into the house to the kitchen. Good, she did know, he thought, confirming it with a slight nod from Lyla to Tyra and squeeze of her wrist. He kissed Billie's temple. "I gotta' go baby, just a second, play with your brother." He set her down in front of Stevie, whose face instantly fell when Billie grabbed at his new gift form Mexico, a giant sombrero.

"Mine," she informed him.

Stevie glared up at him. "This is all your fault."

"It really is," he said, grinning at the kid. "But you can let her share, right?"

"I don't know, can she share? She's a baby!"

"And you're not."

"I'm going to college," Stevie said, to explain this fact to him that he was not a baby. He'd gotten it into his head, after Buddy had said he could play football there. Play at UT, Buddy had already informed him, calling a recruiter to put his name down for a scouting session in another ten years.

Tim smiled down at Stevie. Contrary to Tyra, Lyla, Coach, Buddy, and Tami, and everyone else in Dillon, he never said anything about college or the future to Stevie. "So long as you're happy," he said. He knew Stevie had no idea what he was talking about right now, but he wasn't forcing any of the kids into something they didn't want to do, especially college. He left Billie to play with the sombrero, dumping it onto her head while Stevie looked on, smiling happily at his cousin/little sister once he thought no one was looking at him.

In the doorway to the kitchen, Lyla rose on her toes. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice."

"This is different Tim," she said, her voice soft. Her facial expression was so earnest and her dark eyes wide, a slight wrinkle of concern marring her forehead. She swallowed hard, reaching to squeeze his wrist. "Just be nice please."

He kissed her forehead, reassuring her things would be fine. I don't know why they're all so worried about my reaction. I'm not…I don't think she can't have a life, you know, he felt like saying to his wife. Lyla got worried over strange things. He let go of her, going outside and out towards a spot of grass tamped down and worn away, where they usually dragged chairs to look over the horizon. It was probably the spot where he'd first brought Tyra, many years ago. Or maybe no so long ago, it was hard to tell these days. "Lyla thinks I'm going to flip out on you."

"Are you?" she asked, holding two beers. She must have snagged them on her way out of the kitchen. They both took the beer and opened it, using it as an excuse not to say anything to each other for a moment while they composed their thoughts. She waited a second and then took something out of her pocket, slipping it onto her left hand, slowly gesturing it forward so he could see.

It wasn't half bad, given that Elliott operated on a teacher salary. It was nice, he thought, taking in the diamond with two tiny sapphires on either side. "Pretty," he commented. He glanced at the house. Mindy's ring was on Lyla's hand, but…he looked down at the ground and back up to her, whispering. "You can have Lyla's ring." It was her sister's after all.

A laugh escaped Tyra and she reached her fingers up to press lightly against her lips, holding in the rest of the laughter, but she was grinning. Her eyes were sparkling, tears unshed. "I don't think your wife will like that, but I understand your offer, thank you." She looked at her hand again, whispering. "I can't believe it's been two years with him….didn't think this would ever happen or that I'd ever want it after…after all we've been through. Didn't seem worth it."

"Marriage?"

"Moving on," she whispered.

Moving on. It was all relative. I don't think we've moved on, but we don't let it consume us. Did he miss his brother and sister-in-law? Every fucking day, but he didn't let it send him to bed for days on end like it had in the beginning. He didn't come out of his room. It took Lyla showing up to finally get his ass moving and realizing what was happening to him. He shook his head. That seemed like eons ago. "I miss them," he whispered, lifting his eyes to hers. He smiled, taking his beer and sipping it for a moment, thinking of what to say. What did he say? He swallowed. "I still wish it was Landry," he mumbled.

He accepted the light punch to his shoulder. There was no heart behind it, she loved him, she couldn't hit him like she once could. "I know you do, but you like Elliott, he passed your test, right?" She sipped her beer, looking straight at him. Her brow wrinkled. "Right?"

"Maybe." Of course Elliott had passed the test. Tim leaned in and kissed her temple, his arm going around her shoulders. Tyra was an odd mix of something for him. Pissed him off but he loved her no matter what. He'd slept with her, but she was also like a sister. He had no idea what you could call their relationship. Becky thought they were soulmates, or some variation of it. "He loves you, that's the test," he said. He probably shouldn't have told her that.

She nodded, her head still on his shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist, standing there. After a moment of silence, the two of them just standing together, she sighed dramatically. "Is Oscar swimming in the pond?"

"Hmm…yes."

"I didn't know goats could swim."

"The dog is there watching," he murmured, seeing Gambit not too far from the goat, who he didn't let get too far from him. He looked around the place. It had really built itself up from the haphazard unfinished skeleton he'd originally had five years ago when all this began. He kissed her head again. His voice came out in a bare whisper. Maybe he didn't want her to actually hear it, he wasn't sure. "I love you Tyra."

A faint whisper came back to him. "I love you too Tim."

This was it. The end of an era. Now they were going to start something different. Mindy and Billy had been gone for some time. The boys were doing fine. Thriving. He had his wife and kids. Tyra had her fiancé. He smiled, quirking his lip again. "When are you going to start popping them out?"

"Shut. Up. Now."

"You tell Landry about this?"

The look he got could freeze a polar bear. "You just had to go ruin this didn't you?" she snapped, but there was no heat behind her words. She finished her beer, gesturing to him and lifting her eyebrows up. "You are not walking me down the aisle, don't get fancy ideas, I can see it in your head."

"I did not want to walk you down the aisle!" Yes, he did.

"Hmm, likely story. We're getting married in a building too, not outside in the horse poo like you and Lyla."

"That was not horse poo."

"It sure smelled like it." She pointed her finger at him, walking away from the house and down to the pond, still holding her beer loosely in her fingertips, on a full tear now. "And you are not going to have your silly little wife plan this whole thing! I am not going to become one her projects because she's unfulfilled in other aspects of her life." She arched an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look.

He sneered. "My wife is plenty fulfilled."

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Well fine, you're not going to be able to just come over all the time and crash when you just don't feel like cleaning your house or cooking or something."

"When do I do that? That's you." Oh right, it was him. Tyra turned around again, laughing. "And we are done with this whole wayward animals of Texas thing, we have shared custody of three boys, a horse, a pig, a dog, a rabbit, and a goat!"

He had his eye on a sheep that he'd seen out at a job site. They were getting rid of them at some nearby farm. Lyla liked to knit. Maybe she could learn to spin wool and then he'd never have to buy the kids another sweater again. He innocently took a sip of his beer, smiling at her and blinking with wide eyes. "I would never do that without consulting you."

"Bullshit." Tyra squinted again and pointed. "And I know you still have my favorite UT sweatshirt. I want it back. I'm getting married Tim, no more of this silly little we're still kind of seeing each other thing we've got going on and have had going on since the whole…thing started." She seemed to falter a bit on the teasing and the fake anger when she'd had to bring up a vague reference to the accident, so Tim let her compose herself before he picked up a rock and tossed it at the pond, purposefully knocking against her shoe. She jumped, scowling. "And don't throw rocks at me."

"I'll do what I want."

"We need to talk about Stevie, he's going on and on about college and he's seriously thinking about going to any other school but UT."

"He's like nine."

"And he wants college, so I'm going to foster this thing as long as I can. You can have the twins, something tells me as much as I love those little monsters they're not necessarily college material."

They might surprise you, he thought, looking sideways. "Anything else Your Majesty?"

"Yeah, in fact there is, Elliott wants to move us into his house." She paused, cocking her head and whispered. "It's bigger than mine…bit older…we're going to visit his parents this weekend too. Tell them and let them meet the kids for longer than a few minutes." If he remembered right, Elliott's parents lived in Houston. He nodded and she nodded back, satisfied. "And I promise just because I'm married it doesn't mean I won't ever stop loving you Riggins."

"It's difficult," he sighed dramatically. He knocked his shoulder into hers. "All the ladies miss me now that I'm off the market. I have to fend them away." Actually he really didn't. Becky said something about how the word was out so no one flirted with him anymore now that he was married. Not that he cared, but he expected at least one or two to keep trying, expecting an in.

Tyra smiled again. "And do you know why?"

Same reason all the guys stopped hitting on you? I threatened to kill them? He shook his head. Tyra grinned, rising on her toes so she was eye level with him. "Lyla is a bit of a scary lady when she wants to be."

Aw man. He shook his head. "She would never."

"Your Sunday School teacher of a wife is a bit of a terror, Riggins." She opened her mouth to say something else, probably something disparaging of Lyla, now that she was on that topic, so he stopped her by swooping in and kissing her smack on the mouth, grinning when he pulled back not even a millisecond later. Her eyes widened to saucers. "Um…what was that?" she sputtered.

"Just wanted you to stop talking. And I love you." He pulled her into a huge hug, much different from their quiet one a moment ago. He sighed, his chin resting in the crook of her shoulder. There had been one constant in his life and it had kind of been Tyra. "I love you. I'm very glad that you are happy."

She softened against him, her head against his. Her whisper seemed to float away. "Yeah, me too Tim. Didn't think it could ever happen again." After the accident, dshe was implying. He knew what she meant. That horrible sinking feeling that there would be no good again after losing the two people they loved most in the world. Raising the boys together. Trying to avoid the life they were both crash-course destined on in high school before fate intervened and they went in opposite directions. Only to just kind of end up right back there again. Only better. A different road, he thought, smiling. But the same road. She pulled away from him and kissed him lightly, patting his chest and cocked her head, grinning. "I'm going to go back to my fiancé."

"You do that." I'll have another little chat with him later. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, walking back up to the house. They dumped their finished beer bottles in the recycle outside the house and went up into the kitchen. He froze, realizing something important and it wasn't the throbbing in his hand as the painkiller Lyla had given him to numb for the stitches was wearing off. "Um…forgot to tell you someone is here."

"Coach, I saw him."

He shook his head, just as Landry walked into the room, followed by Ricky who had his toy guitar over his chest. Tyra's eyes widened. "Landry!"

"I hear congratulations are in order," Landry said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. He whispered something into her ear and she flushed, but smiled, slightly sheepish. He cleared his throat, nodding towards him. "I'm headed out, just wanted to drop off that guitar for the twins to share."

Tim raised an eyebrow while Tyra frowned. "Share? Twins? You must be joking."

"I talked to them, it's fine. Congratulations Tyra." He gave her another hug and then looked towards him, pointing. "Do not screw this up for her."

He gave Landry a 'who me?' look and smiled, knowing what he was talking about. Yeah, Elliott is fine with me, I'm not going to screw them up just because I'd rather have you as a brother-in-law. That was mostly because Landry had acquired friends in all sorts of places and he wanted tickets to the Super Bowl. Since one of Landry's newest fans was a famous quarterback, he figured he could make it happen. "Yeah sure," he laughed.

"Invite me to the…" Landry trailed off as Nicky ran into the room. "Nevermind. Just invite me, I want to see it for myself."

"It's not like it's the end of the world," Tyra laughed.

Oh but it was, Tim was about to say, but Tyra went to walk Landry out and Nicky chose that moment to jump at him. He grabbed the kid as best he could with his hand aching. "What's up Short Stuff?"

"Help me with my homework," Nicky said.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

"Well okay then." He set him down and walked over to Lyla, wiggling his eyebrows. "You and I have the house to ourselves this weekend, whatever shall we do?" he said, leaning in to kiss her, but she put her finger up, smiling up at him. He scowled. "Aw, man." Clean. That's what they'd do, now that Coach and Tami were in town and would take the girls for some fun times. My life, he thought, shaking his head. So different.

He leaned against the doorway, smiling into the living room, Tyra coming up to stand beside him, both of them watching the three boys play around with Coach and Elliott. He glanced sideways at her. "We did good Collette." Everyone always said that to him. It was time he said it to someone else.

She nodded, reaching to bump her fist against his, her engagement ring clicking against his wedding band. "We sure did Riggins."

And that was kind of all they wanted, wasn't it, he thought, glancing now to the picture of Billy and Mindy on the mantel. He reached his fingers up and silently saluted his brother. He dropped his hand and looked down at Stevie, who had appeared in front of him. "What's up?" he asked.

"Help me with my plays Dad. Please."

His heart warmed a bit at that. Stevie was now using that word more than Tim or Uncle Tim. The twins never called them by their first names now. They never really ever knew them as the aunt and uncle. He smiled and nodded, taking the football and walked out into the backyard, throwing it straight towards Stevie, who lept into the air and grabbed it, taking off down the sideline of their makeshift little football field. Stevie threw the ball to him and he grabbed it, before throwing it back. His mind went blank as he started to just play catch with his son.


End file.
